Inheritance
by bluejay
Summary: It's been a few months since Damian came into the family; a rough few months. But now that things are slowly settling down, something happens and the Bats find out just how far-reaching a mother's ambition can be. 'Brotherhood' verse.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: Sequel to "Brotherhood" and "Jealousy" because a plot bunny bit me. Again. Cursed bunnies and their untimeliness. This took longer in the works 'cause of real life stresses...

Notes2: Since a lot of folks are 'patiently' waiting for the next installment in the Brotherhood verse, I'm posting the first chapter early. The rest will have to wait until I finish writing ._.

* * *

He didn't understand it. The Joker himself was prancing about the faux Victorian set, playing with any prop he could get his hands on and tossing them about once he was done.

"Ooh," the fake clown dove for the silver tea set on the coffee table. He delicately picked up the teapot and a cup then turned to the group of hostages huddled in one corner. "Would anyone care for some tea?" he asked sweetly, pouring golden tea into the cup. "Is that one lump or two?"

He laughed and downed the tea in one gulp. His white face curled in disgust when he finished. "Ew. No wonder they offer sugar lumps with these things." He casually tossed teacup and pot over his shoulder, cringing when both hit the flooring with a _clang!_ "That, was not a good idea."

And he laughed again.

Damian growled to himself. He didn't like the fake clown. Grayson said clowns were to make people laugh, but this one only makes himself laugh. And it was a loud and annoying laugh, too. He shifted his gaze to the hostages, making sure none of them were critically injured. Black Tern wasn't sure what's keeping Batman or Robin from bursting in as planned, but if they still weren't around in two minutes, _he _was going to take care of the Joker.

There was a brief shadow of movement to one side of the set. It was fast enough to catch Black Tern's eye, while the armed goon only saw dust floating in the air.

Batman and Robin had agreed that there was no chance of taking the Joker's latest group of henchmen stealthily. The studio lights were too widespread, the area too open. All of the large equipment had been moved away from the center where an overhead spotlight shone on the huddled hostages. Joker's armed henchmen were placed by the rim of the open space in the middle and the Joker? Roamed everywhere in the studio his fancy took him.

With each goon in line of sight with each other, taking one down would alert the others; and there was little enough space for any escape to go unnoticed. So that leaves only one avenue for surprise: above.

The Joker tossed another theatrical prop out of the circle of goons, the resulting crash barely fazing the henchmen. Damian frowned and made a closer inspection of the goons: elevated heartbeats but not so fast as to indicate nervousness, slight sheen of sweat on their faces but that could simply be the result of the powerful spotlight, a steady scan of their surroundings rather than jerky glances left and right. The goons were watchful, none of them acted nervous at all.

These weren't merely hired lackeys desperate to make a quick buck. And they were waiting.

_"We interrupt this program to bring you this message," the TV announcer's voice was replaced with someone else's, someone with a white face and blood-red lips. "Hellooo Batsy!" The Joker cheerfully greeted the camera. "So I heard you got yourself a new bird. Well, isn't that nice?" Yellowed teeth were suddenly hidden as the red lips dropped into a growl. "Of course not! One bird I can tolerate but two? Two!"_

_The Joker shook his head sadly. "Tsk tsk, Batsy. You keep adding to our game of two. Now why would you do that? So selfish of you!" The grotesque grin showed once again. "But I'm a nice guy, and I decided: why don't you introduce your new bird to Uncle J? I went and set this up for you..." _

_The camera slowly zoomed out to show the rest of the set - of the quickly growing popular soap opera _Remembering Chelsea_, whose actors, actresses, and staff was huddled in fear just behind Joker. "The clock's ticking, Batsy! If I don't see the new bird in two hours, well, these boys have itchy fingers." He laughed while he waved his arms to indicate the armed men scattered around the set. _

_"Just remember," the Joker's lips pulled back into an ear-splitting grin as his voice dropped, "it's my Tern now."_

_The television set was turned off with the Joker's laugh echoing on the walls._

'We can't take them one on one,' his comms rasped in his ear. Black Tern shifted his weight to his other leg, eyes still trained on the Joker and the henchmen below as he listened to Robin's assessment. 'They're expecting us.'

'Agreed,' Batman replied. 'Robin, five second headstart. Tern, stay hidden.'

'I refuse,' Damian hissed back. 'The Joker taunted _me_. This is my battle.'

'Oh no, not this time,' it was all the warning he got before Robin was hurtling downwards, cape billowing to slow his fall.

'Robin!' Father and son gave a strangled yell as their adopted son/brother passed the studio lights mounted near the ceiling.

'What are you doing? Get back-'

But Damian's words came too late. The Joker had glanced up and, spotting the falling Robin, grinned wide.

"Birdy!" The mock-clown cackled, opening his arms wide as though to envelop Robin in a welcoming hug.

Robin's arm shot out. His grapple launched in a burst of smoke. And Robin was swinging with both boots smashing against one goon's face. The man fell to the ground, his gun clattering away into the shadows.

But there were still half a dozen armed henchmen bringing their guns to bear on Black Tern's brother...

Batman's broad shadow was already sweeping out from the dark. The henchmen swung to aim for the older hero - but it was too late. In the second it took for the henchmen to react, Batman had already knocked out two of them, while Robin brought down another one. It was a classic maneuver for the two heroes: both switching their roles to either distract or take out the enemy. Confusion reigned as the goons couldn't figure out which hero to aim for.

And the Joker laughed, his arms flung wide as though he was waiting for confetti to shower on him. This was also one of the fake clown's expected reactions - the reason why not many villains would tap the Joker as an ally. He was too unpredictable and would just as sooner hinder the hired help as commit the crime.

"Batsy and Boy Blunder!" The Joker cried cheerfully. "Glad you could join the fun! But tell me, where's the other birdy?"

It was a trap. Of course it had to be; the Joker never sends an invite without having a trap hidden in the vicinity. Neither Batman nor Robin could find any trace of it though, and Black Tern couldn't sense it either. His father had cautioned him into not revealing himself before they could find out what the trap is.

But Damian had never backed down from a challenge.

"I am right here," Black Tern announced as he dropped into the studio proper, his own cape spread out to slow his fall into a controlled descent. "I do not like your calling me out, Joker."

"Little Tern!" Joker cackled. "How about a hug for your Uncle J?"

Black Tern's eyes narrowed. "No."

"Aw, not even a teensy weensy one?" The fake clown huffed, barely disappointed. "Oh fine, be that way! But, I hope you enjoy your present!"

Batman, Robin, and Black Tern immediately came alert. The Joker and his presents were always a crisis waiting to happen. Previous 'gifts' usually involved bombs, canisters of Joker Venom, or civilians in danger. There was no way to predict which way Joker's thoughts went; the only thing one can be sure of is: 95% of the Joker's thoughts are filled with chaos.

"What present." Black Tern demanded as he subtly searched the area for strange boxes; but either the Joker decided to hide it amongst the numerous other boxes in the studio or..._the present wasn't inside a box._

The fake clown grinned. "Why, it's the one behind you."

That, along with Robin's widening eyes, had Black Tern diving into a roll on his left. Air whistling past his shoulder told him he was just in time. He rolled and spun on the heels of his palms to face whatever it was behind him-

-and stopped short at the monstrosity that dared to draw its blades at him.

"Isn't it pretty?" the Joker laughed proudly, but Black Tern's gaze remained on the half-robot, half-kitchen slicer and painted sloppily like a mock-clown with a white face and a lot of red. It wobbled on unsteady legs but its eight arms held a glinting scimitar each and were all the more deadly because of its unpredictable gait.

"It's simply _amazing_ the things you find in a TV studio!" The mock clown was still crowing. "They were filming _Tomorrow's City_ in the same building, didn't you know? And I found this _wonderful _creation from their scraps." He walked over to run a teasing hand on the back of a scimitar. "Sadly, it was all burnt and dented when I found it. So I had it re-painted. Doesn't it look amazing now?"

"It is an eyesore," Black Tern spat, eyes still trained on the robotic mess.

"That's the point!" The Joker laughed again, the sound annoyingly ringing in Damian's ears. "Oh I do love me some smart birds. Too bad it's your _Tern_ to paint the town _red_."

"Robin," Damian's earpiece crackled with static but his Father's voice came through clear enough. "Keep the Joker busy. Black Tern, get the civilians to safety. I'll handle-"

"I refuse, Batman," Black Tern replied, cutting off his Father's instructions as he rushed for the flailing robot. "I will handle the monstrosity."

"Black Tern!" 

"The clown is yours, Father," he switched off his earpiece so he could focus on the robot. Its eight arms wove an intricate net of sharpened steel. Its gait was still unstable - clearly whoever invented this piece of junk was an idiot - but its two legs were protected by the slashing blades. Black Tern would have to time this right if he wanted to get past the scimitars. But even if he did manage to do so, he would have to move fast to set an explosive on the legs without being sliced to pieces and without the robot slashing or dislodging the explosive.

Damian could feel the smirk rising to his lips. He'd been trained by the League of Assassins from an early age, and had the genetics that set him above the other powerless capes.

He drew out his pair of blunted rapiers and waited until he'd figured out the pattern of the robot's eight arms; pinpointing at the same time a slight clicking noise that came from the robot's legs.

Then he darted in.

He sidestepped the first slash. The next one came high and he ducked. The third and fourth jabbed at him at the same time but he twisted his shoulders back so the blades passed harmlessly beside him. Fifth and sixth were successive low slashes to his legs and he leaped to avoid them.

He couldn't avoid the seventh and eighth while setting the explosive as they were sweeps up and down; but he could block them. The seventh came down and he slid to the right. When the scimitar clanged against the cement flooring, his blunted rapier came into play and held down the arm. He sidestepped to evade the eighth and finally, he was sticking an explosive charge on one of the robot's joints - right where he'd heard the clicking.

Explosive set, it was a mad scramble to the top of the robot as the scimitars tried once again to slice him. He'd just reached the red-painted head of the robot when the charge went off. He kept his footing despite the massive shudder that rocked the robot and only leaped off when it started to tilt.

He tucked into a roll as he landed, with the sound of machinery short circuiting behind him. The robot was a mechanical mess when he turned to make sure it was taken care of. Scimitars became embedded in the concrete floor as the blades sunk in with the weight of the robot behind them, forming a haphazard cage of glinting steel.

When Black Tern turned back to search out his father and brother, he spotted Robin giving him a thumbs up and a wide grin as he tied off the remaining henchmen. His Father though, nodded at him grimly; the Joker sitting restrained by his feet, ranting and raving about carving up birds for dinner time.


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Merry Christmas! Anyway, no, this fic isn't finished yet and yes, I'm still working on it. I'm almost to the end actually.

* * *

Damian was not happy upon returning to the Cave. And from the looks of it, neither was his Father. The corners of the man's mouth were firmly set downwards, deep lines showing just how tight the muscles were working to keep the frown in place. And as he stalked into the Cave without pause like he had prey to confront, Damian knew one or both he and his brother would be lectured at tonight.

Father finally whirled around to face Grayson, his voice taking on that scolding tone that he used to warn criminals. "You were reckless tonight, Dick."

"Hey, it was either take action now or wait until he shoots one of the hostages," Richard said in his defense. Where wrongdoers would cringe and turn their gazes away, Damian's brother had gotten bold in his years of growing up with the Dark Knight and had learned to face the 'Bat-glare' head on. Damian had thought it was foolhardy to do so, but he grudgingly respected his brother for his courage. "You knew it was getting past Joker's deadline," reminded Richard.

But Father wasn't accepting the excuse. "It was a feint. The Joker knew we were there and wanted to draw us out."

"And what if it wasn't?" Richard shot back, his body rigid in his challenge. "Would you be willing to risk a hostage dying just to make sure you had all the variables?"

Father's eyes flashed dangerously, taking offense at the insinuation that he would allow harm to come to a civilian while he could stop it. Damian knew the argument would quickly escalate into a shouting war that would echo in his sensitive ears for hours, so he moved to interfere.

"It _was _a feint and you played into it, Richard," Damian spoke up, crossing his arms as he scowled at his brother. "The Joker wouldn't kill one of his hostages unless he wanted attention. But he already had ours so there was no need to kill."

He narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him. His brother was looking too self-satisfied to have merely guessed at the Joker's plans; in fact, Richard was looking too pleased to let his Father's reprimands wash over him. Richard had always been over-critical of himself whenever he made a mistake. If he was confident of his decision during the fight with Joker then... "You know of the Joker's methods and his thinking."

"As much thinking as could be predicted from a psychopath." Richard said, shedding his mask and cape with a shrug. "But we saved the hostages, we got the Joker, and we walked away without even a scratch. What more could you ask for?"

"And the next time?" Father countered, still looming over Richard. "I didn't train you to throw caution to the wind, Dick."

"And I _didn't_!" Richard protested. "I had you and Damian as my backup. I wouldn't have taken the jump otherwise. _You know that_."

"Backup or no," Damian added, "it was a risky move and one taken prematurely." He tossed his cape to a nearby bench where he'd already left his mask. "It was my challenge. I would have accepted it."

This time, it was Richard's eyes that narrowed at him. "Like that challenge with the Games Master that _you _took from _me_?"

"That was different. I knew the Games Master and can accurately predict his plans with a two percent margin of error."

"And I knew the Joker." Richard shot back. Then his lips turned into a smirk. "With a bigger margin of error, true, but that's all you can get when dealing with an insane genius. Care to try again?"

"Enough." The heavy hand on their shoulders spoke volumes of Father's weariness. Both Damian and Richard raised their heads to catch the tired look in the Bat's eyes. "Change. Then go to bed. Both of you."

"But what about-" Richard began in protest.

"-the report?" Damian finished for him.

"I'll handle the report," Father turned and headed for the Crays, his cape fluttering behind him. He tossed a final, "The two of you have school tomorrow," over his shoulder and paid them no more attention.

Damian let out a sigh but halted it midway when he heard his brother do the same. He was fond of his brother, but not enough that he would imitate him.

The two of them changed out of the rest of their uniforms and into civilian attire before heading up to the Manor, Richard preceding him. For a fourteen year old, Richard seemed to treat schooling like it was merely a temporary phase to make the most out of. His adoptive brother had spoken of minor pranks he'd pulled, teachers he'd 'trolled', and all the while consistently earned high marks and the respect of the other students. Richard had fun learning and re-learning while he was privately tutored by the World's Greatest Detective outside of school.

Damian on the other hand, didn't see the need to attend schooling - he'd been tutored extensively in the sciences and arithmetic; whatever education civilian schools deem standard for his age, his knowledge surpassed them. These schools had nothing further to teach him and he found everything about school boring.

"Did you finish your essay for English Lit?" Richard asked him halfway to their rooms.

Damian snorted in disdain. He'd sometimes converse with his adoptive brother on the proper amount of detail to add into a school essay so as not to raise suspicion of their vigilante work - even though it irked him to have to omit just how much knowledge he knows. Richard asking him about his homework essays was a routine he found both annoying because he didn't like admitting that he was less than superior, and pleasing because it was evidence of Richard's concern for him.

"I do not see what merits I can learn about escaping into fantasy." He told his adoptive brother. "But yes, I did finish my essay on _A Wrinkle in Time_."

"They're not escaping, Damie. Actually, they're going through a portal to enter a _different dimension_."

Damian snorted. "Preposterous."

"Think of it this way," Richard threw an arm around him and he had to fight his instinct to throw off and disable the invading arm, but his brother continued as if he didn't notice the sudden tension. "You know how Superman comes from another planet, right? Or how Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian are from Mars. Now decades ago, people thought there was no life on Mars or that planets in other systems are too far away for us to ever meet them but look at us now! And all it took was some alien technology so we could zeta to other planets in an instant!"

Damian took the pause to firmly shove away Richard's arm. "As I said, _escaping _into fantasy. There is no way their _tesseract _could function in such a primitive way."

But his skepticism didn't even faze his brother. Richard grinned at him without a hint of his smile dropping. "You just don't want to believe that it could be possible."

"Because it is not! And their grabbing victory with a simple declaration of love? Implausible."

"Hey, don't belittle the emotion called 'love'," Richard said with conviction.

Damian shrugged. "It is merely an emotion."

They had both reached the doors to their bedrooms at this point and his brother threw him one last grin before stepping into his bedroom. "Yes, it's just an emotion, but a lot of great things have been accomplished because of love. Think about it. Good night, Damie."

"Good night, Richard."

His brother's words repeated in his mind as Damian lay on his bed, arms at his sides and legs straight out as he had been conditioned to. He had been trained extensively on planning well; to consider every possible outcome and have a strategy ready in response, even if that strategy brings with it a burden he didn't want to bear. But he was an assassin born and bred, he was trained to succeed despite the cost. He couldn't afford to be finicky about his choices. _Life_, as he has been taught, _is ten percent what happens and ninety percent how one reacts to it_.

Love is an emotion, and emotions are barriers to success. People do not win with just one declaration of love. Damian growled and jerked the blanket to cover himself. He did not see what Richard finds enjoyable in wasting time with false pretenses of reality.


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Story is done! I just haven't finished editing ^^ Updates will still be sporadic, as I try to turn this into a sequel worthy of Brotherhood. But rest assured, the story is finished :)

* * *

Mrs. Jensen was sick the next day and her substitute decided to postpone the deadline for their English Lit essays. Damian calmly packed his things and headed for the hallway while his classmates eagerly chattered around him about the latest gossip involving three movie actors. Damian paid them no heed. He'd never found the things that others constitute as "entertainment" to be interesting. If he were to be asked, he'd have told them to stop wasting their resources drooling over shallow civilians. Learning how to defend oneself against the dregs of urban Gotham was time better spent.

Not to mention his English Literature class; it was an utterly boring misuse of time discussing human emotions. The class was never interesting to Damian, no matter how much his brother encouraged him into exploring the classics as well as modern works. They were all products of escapism and _he _wouldn't waste his energy on those. Still, he finished his homework as was required of him - though not with the high marks he was expecting to attain.

_"You're Bruce's kid alright," Grayson said, waving a sheet of paper in one hand, "Really. You make even the Velveteen Rabbit a story for nursery kids."_

_"It is a fiction written for immature children." Damian defended himself. "All this belief in being 'real' has no merit and is a mere waste of time."_

_"So heartless, Damie! It's like you don't enjoy reading at all!"_

_"I do enjoy reading, Grayson. But only those books with informative text do I find interesting, not this drivel your school insists we read."_

_"They're informative too, Damie. They teach you about courage, inner strength. Love."_

_"T-t. Assassins have no need for love except as a means to manipulate others."_

_Grayson's eyes glinted as though he had set a trap and Damian had just found himself caught in it. "But you're not an assassin anymore, are you?"_

_But Damian had a counterargument for that. "I may not kill, Grayson, but I have not forgotten my training. I will always be an assassin."_

"Hey, Damie!" Richard hopped over towards him with a wide grin. Since Damian's class finished early, he had been standing by the school lobby waiting for his brother, who promptly ran out of the classroom as soon as the bell rung.

"So," Richard said casually as they headed out of the school doors side by side, "how'd Mrs. Jensen find your essay?"

"The deadline has been postponed." Damian answered, immediately turning for the curb where Pennyworth waited. "I have the weekend to rewrite it if I wish to."

"Need any help?"

"No. I have no plans of rewriting an acceptable essay." And he certainly didn't want to spend more of his time frittering away at rubbish. He didn't need to achieve a stellar grade in this institution. He'd already passed the more rigorous training of the League of Assassins and that counted more.

"You sure?"

Damian gave his older brother an exasperated glare. "Yes, Richard, I am certain I don't need your assistance."

Richard held his hands up as though in surrender - a gesture Damian also found irritating as it kept one's hands unable to retrieve a weapon or shield to defend oneself - mostly.

Pennyworth held the door open for both of them to climb in before rounding the hood to climb into the driver's seat.

"So, Alfie," Richard began as the car pulled away from the curb, "did Bruce mention anything last night?"

Damian immediately perked up in interest. "Was there something I should be informed about, Richard? I was, after all, with you during the fiasco last night."

"Just a little something I've been wondering about ever since the Joker sent that broadcast." Richard smirked. "When I said I knew the Joker, I meant that I've fought him a few times and I _know _his M.O."

Damian frowned as he pondered on the significance of his brother's statement. True, Robin had more experience with fighting criminals and such never-do-wells. It would follow that Richard would be familiar with the villains' modus operandi. So with Joker's attack last night and Richard's current boasting, there could be only one conclusion:

"The Joker was not behaving accordingly." Damian stated.

"Bingo!" Richard grinned broadly. "Joker's all for mass mayhem and a lot of attention; but when he hijacked _Remembering Chelsea, _the network's lowest ranking noon-time television series, last night? He didn't get the kind of attention he's known for."

"Then why attack the set?" Damian asked.

Richard sighed in defeat and slumped back into his seat. "That's what I'd like to know."

"So does Master Bruce," Pennyworth agreed from the driver's seat. "He came up with quite the temper early this morning."

Richard huffed. "Great. That means he doesn't know either and he's frustrated as hel- heck about it."

Pennyworth sent Richard a stern look through the mirror that had Damian's brother cringing. The butler's disapproving gaze never failed to make his older brother feel remorse for even the most minor of misdeeds. But Pennyworth's scolding tone wasn't evident when he addressed Damian, "A package arrived for you this afternoon, Master Damian."

Damian raised an eyebrow as he asked curiously, "A package? From whom?"

"Your mother, I believe."

The raised eyebrow dropped into a puzzled frown. "Mother has no reason to send me a package. What could it be?"

Richard shot him a grin. "Maybe you forgot your plushie and she wanted to get it back to you."

Damian aimed a scowl at his older brother as he hissed, "I do _not _have a plushie."

"Hey, Batman got Elinore back to me when I forgot her at the orphanage." Richard's grin never faltered but a certain sadness came over his blue eyes - it always did whenever he spoke of his life before Bruce Wayne. Father had said it would take time for Richard's pain to fade, but time was taking so long...

Richard shrugged and let his grin fade. "Maybe she just wanted to send you something to remind you of home. It's been half a year since you came here, after all."

Damian made a noncommittal grunt. He didn't bother to tell his brother that Talia al Ghul was not one to send gifts to others unless she had another hidden agenda - like bribery or poison. She and Damian's Grandfather were of the same mind.

Richard remained silent the entire trip back to Wayne Manor and Damian was glad of it. He didn't like to have to explain his mother's motives to his brother - Batman and Robin had foiled several of Grandfather's plans before and there will always be hostilities between them for as long as Grandfather aims to raze the world. And his Mother, for as long as she stands by Grandfather's side to support his goals, fell under the same category.

Damian, though, was the sole exception. Six months after he first came to live with his Father, Damian knew he was being trusted more and more. But that trust came little by little and Damian came to learn slowly that Grandfather's way was not the only way to achieve one's goals.

They arrived at the Manor shortly, and as Pennyworth mentioned, there was a package addressed to Damian waiting in the foyer.

"I took the liberty of running a preliminary scan on the package," the butler stated, handing over the paper-wrapped box before moving on to complete the rest of his chores. "I can assure you that while I do not know its contents, it is definitely not a bomb."

Damian snorted as he took the box and carefully pulled off the tape. "My mother would not allow the use of her name to send an explosive that would bring harm to Father or me."

"Hey!" Richard spoke up, coming up on his right. "What about me and Alfred?"

Damian paused in his unwrapping to give his brother a solemn look. Mother had spoken often of the people Father associated with and she had long ago told Damian of her opinions of those people. "She considers you and Pennyworth as necessary casualties. Regrettable only because of the grief brought on Father."

"Harsh," Richard complained but remained quiet as Damian took off the paper wrapping. Richard also knew of Mother's opinions of him and shrugged it off as a necessary evil in a vigilante career.

Underneath the paper wrapping was a plain white box. There was no design nor any brand imprinted on the box so Damian thought nothing of opening it.

Immediately, the smell of butter and orange permeated the foyer.

"That...that smells really good," Richard said, sniffing the air. "What is that?"

Damian glanced down at the large, perfectly baked pastry in his hands as he answered, "It is _kadaif_. A cheese pastry with pistachios. Grandfather has an orchard of pistachio trees in the compound and Mother always has her _kanafeh _made with the pistachios." In a softer voice, he admitted, "It has been my favorite treat in the compound."

Richard grinned broadly, blue eyes sparkling. "I was right! Your mother did send you something to remind you of home."

But Damian was shaking his head as he turned the container this way and that, barely avoiding dislodging the pastry. "No. Mother wouldn't send gifts without a hidden motive. There must be a message for me somewhere within this package."

He checked every inch of the box, the aluminum container holding the pastry, even the paper-wrapper the package came with but found nothing. The materials used for the package were made of standard but sturdy materials; not even a single fiber from Grandfather's paper mill was used. The package held nothing but the treat and biodegradable wrapping.

He glanced up to find his brother looking at him strangely as though he was an arithmetic problem to be solved. "What."

"If I didn't know Talia, I'd say you were paranoid." Richard replied slowly. "But I live with Bruce and _he _makes paranoid look...well, _noid_?"

Damian gave his brother a blank stare.

"You know, if paranoid means to have an extreme distrust-" Richard started explaining but Damian swiftly turned his back and headed for the kitchen. He found his brother's penchant for language-splicing irritating at best. "_Noid _is not a word, Richard. Do not make it such."

His brother's laughter followed him to the kitchen where Damian set the _kadaif_ on the counter. He took two small plates and two forks from one of the cupboards before going back to slice a helping of the pastry for himself - and for his brother.

"Here," he shoved the filled plate and a fork towards Richard who was just entering the kitchen.

"What's this?" Richard took the proffered plate but gave him a puzzled look. "For me? But Damian, it's your favorite! You don't have to-"

"You've shared your favored treats with me," Damian interrupted his protest. "I seek to return the favor."

The confession earned Damian a smile. Richard then stepped closer and draped an arm around his shoulders, firmly steering him towards a chair by the breakfast nook before Damian could protest or shrug Grayson's arm off. "Richard, what are you doing?"

"Eating beside you, what else?" was the cheerful reply as Richard sat himself on the chair beside Damian's. "I grew up eating my meals with family; even if it was just Mom and me, I was never alone while having dinner." Richard's grin widened. "And during special occasions like birthdays or Christmas, the whole circus would gather together for a feast. It was noisy and messy and you often had to squeeze in between two big adults just to sit on the long bench," the grin turned wistful as Grayson recalled his early childhood.

"But nothing can compare to having your entire family surrounding you, reminding you that you're not alone."

Damian snorted. "You're not alone, Richard. Your speedster friend barely lets you be."

Richard laughed in agreement, adding, "And I've got you, baby bro."

"T-t." Damian turned his gaze to his pastry and shoved a forkful into his mouth. Inwardly, he was pleased that his brother included him. The League of Assassins never conversed with him outside of relaying instructions or lessons. Even Mother's story-times were given with the express purpose of teaching him about his Father's exploits.

And then Richard came - telling stories, sharing his treats, treating Damian like he was a part of the family. It was disconcerting at first, but after years of being valued only for the skills he possessed and the acclaim those skills would bring, Damian decided that he rather liked being valued for _who _he is instead. Richard made him feel like he was a _person_ and not a thing.

But Damian kept that thought to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Notes: My faithful replying to every review is out of whack. Lots of stresses in RL and inner critic still keeps popping my ego balloons.

* * *

Dinner that day came and went; Father opted not to partake of the remaining _kadaif _when Damian offered it to him - he suspected Father, upon knowing where the pastry came from, wished not to be reminded of the circumstances that found a young Bruce Wayne living amongst the al Ghuls. Mother had spoken much of the trials Father went through during his stay and some of her anecdotes revealed little details about her Beloved. Apparently, he and Damian shared the same fondness for Mother's _kadaif._

But whereas Damian only had pleasant memories with the treat, his Father couldn't stop associating the pastry with Mother's betrayal by choosing to follow Grandfather.

He tilted his head when a faint, high pitched noise came to his hearing. He, Richard, and Father had separated to take different patrol routes that night. The Joker's unprecedented attack on the television studio had Father exceedingly paranoid about patrolling Gotham. He believed that something had provoked the Joker into taking the studio hostage - what or whom it could be was still unknown. So Father had them split to cover more of the city.

The noise Damian heard wasn't loud or irritating, but was at a pitch average humans wouldn't be able to hear. It was also consistent - like an alarm sounding from far away.

He immediately raised a hand to his comms. "Batman, I'm hearing an alarm a mile away."

His Father's response was just as quick. "The silent alarm in Gotham Premiere Bank. Robin's closer. Head to the bank to meet up with him and tell me what you find."

"Yes, sir." Damian shot out a jump-line and swung for the bank his Father mentioned. He, too, had memorized Gotham's layout so he could not only easily recognize where in the city he was but also how to arrive wherever he was needed. He did not, however, memorize how every silent alarm in the entire city would sound when triggered.

His Mother's bio-engineering of his genes had produced heightened senses in him - all the better to accomplish his missions - and it was one of his attributes that Father took advantage of. Though Father hadn't yet had the proper equipment to duplicate 'silent' alarms for his perusal, he had familiarized himself with every highly potential targets for crime: banks, jewelry stores, laboratories, and committed to memory their locations. The sound of an alarm nearby would have Batman honing in on the closest probable target using his memory of the city's layout.

In three months, Damian aspired to acquire that skill as well so he wouldn't have to rely on Father for his directives.

He landed on the rooftop of a small office building overlooking the bank. A few seconds later, Robin dropped beside him with a minor stumble, drawing a frown from Damian. Robin had recovered his slip quick enough for it not to be noticeable by other people, but Damian was not one of those 'other people' and he saw the error as though it was displayed on the BatCave's monitor.

Damian knew Richard was a highly trained acrobat - a stumble like that would be impossible for someone with his older brother's inherent grace. So Damian paused in his task and made a closer assessment of his brother's condition.

"Your temperature is higher than normal and your heart-rate is elevated." He observed loudly. Damian did not need to mention the sharp tang of sweat coming from his brother - too sharp for this early in the patrol.

"I'm fine," Richard mumbled half-heartedly, his attention on the bank below them. "I can still finish patrol."

Damian glared at him, knowing that his brother was lying. If Richard's current condition worsened as the night progressed, Robin would definitely end up dead, even if it was just from jumping to another rooftop. And that was something Damian would never allow.

But there was no time to send Robin away. The robbers who snuck into the bank by digging a hole into the ground were now stuffing money into cloth sacks, their subdued cheers and racing heartbeats sounding loud in Damian's ears.

"Make sure to keep up," he said curtly to Robin then swung for the bank. He decided that he would finish this quickly so he could convince his stubborn brother to go home early.

It was easy enough to pick the multiple locks on the Bank's staff entrance; a mini scrambler attached to the corner of the door was enough to prevent any sign of his entry from showing up at the Bank's main headquarters. Considering the silent alarm was already triggered, Damian didn't have to hide his own 'footprints,' but he was trained to be thorough and to leave no trace behind. Hiding his tracks - physical and electronic, both - was almost an afterthought.

He quietly snuck into the bank and checked for robbers left outside the vault as lookouts. There were none so he headed straight for the vault door and found one robber standing behind the door while the other two busied themselves grabbing currency from the burst hole on the safe. Damian kept his snort to himself at the idiocy of these robbers.

All three of the robbers were too engrossed in the money going into the sack that their lookout never saw the punch that knocked him out. Black Tern didn't bother hiding the unconscious body. He tossed one smoke bomb by the other robbers and waited for the room to fill with smoke before he went to work.

Taking down the criminals was ridiculously easy. The smoke obliterated the robbers' eyesight and compromised their reaction times to nothing - all they could do was drop whatever they were carrying to claw at throats and cover their mouths. They couldn't fight back when Black Tern came in, fists swinging.

If asked, Damian would have preferred to use his scimitars for a fight. But Father was adamant about his no-killing rule and Black Tern was expected to follow the same regulation while he remained under Batman's authority. It was also difficult to keep his strikes non-lethal when handling sharpened edges so Damian opted to use his body while he considered a proper weapon Father would approve of.

Light footsteps behind him alerted Black Tern to his brother's entrance.

"Wow, that was fast," Robin whistled, surveying the downed robbers scattered around the vault room.

"T-t. They were easy to subdue." Black Tern admitted.

"Wasn't judging," Robin grinned and bent down to help tie up the unconscious criminals. "B-man's arriving any minute now, and so are the guys in blue. It'll be faster if we both truss up these bozos."

Despite the dimness of the lighting in the night-shrouded bank, Damian could clearly see his brother's hands shaking with weakness as he bound the criminals' limbs. Black Tern mentally resigned himself into composing a summary of events for Batman as well as a short argument that would convince their mentor into allowing both Robin and Black Tern an early night.

He quickly secured the robbers - he made sure to tie up two while Richard finished with one - then urged Robin to leave the premises when the wailing sirens grew loud enough for Richard to hear them. The two of them cleared the bank just in time for the police to arrive at the scene.

"You didn't even leave some for me," Richard accused him as soon as they landed on the adjacent building's rooftop.

"Fighting them was well beneath my skills," he stated, cocking his head to the left to indicate the arrival of Batman. "Your assistance was not needed."

"I thought it was the other way around."

Damian snorted. "You are in no condition to do battle."

Robin glared at him through the mask. "I told you, I'm _fine._"

"Trouble?" Batman's deep voice preceded the dark figure walking towards them.

As expected, Richard quickly worked to belittle the situation. "No trouble at all. We're perfectly-"

Either Richard was driven by Father's work ethic or he simply enjoyed patrol, Damian didn't know. But Damian was having none of it. He took a step closer to Batman and demanded in his most authoritative voice, "I request for myself and Robin to be excused from the rest of patrol."

Richard immediately protested but Damian ignored him to face Father's narrowed eyes without flinching.

"Why?" Batman rasped.

"Richard's condition is steadily deteriorating the longer we stay in the city's cool climate."

Batman's glare shot towards the older teen and he quickly strode over to assess Grayson's condition for himself.

When he finished, Father apparently agreed with Damian's judgment. "Robin, go home. Black Tern, make sure he gets home safely."

Damian nodded and turned to fire off a jump line in the direction of where Robin hid his bike, but Robin stomped just a step away from Batman, his head tilted back to scowl angrily at the figure looming over him.

"I'm _not _going home. I feel _fine!_ And I can finish this patrol with you."

Batman's response was thunderous. "You are _not _fine. This isn't a game, Robin. And I'm not risking your life just to finish patrol. Go. Home!"

The two of them spent a few seconds exchanging glares until Robin huffed and turned on his heel - nearly tripping himself up when one foot responded slower than the other - but he caught himself with barely a hitch and proceeded to clomp towards where Damian stood waiting. Robin aimed a final glare at Black Tern before silently firing off a jump line and swinging for their hidden bikes.

Black Tern followed suit. He had caught the older teen's minor falter and knew he had been right to call for an early night.

It did little to appease the sting of pain he felt when his brother glared at him in accusation.


	5. Chapter 5

Notes: Updates are now regular since edits are done. That is, unless I forget ^^

Jesters of the Moon: Robin's gonna have to take a backseat as the story progresses though. You'll see :)

Starshinesoldier: There'll be a lot more Damian!feels in a few chapters ;)

* * *

But Richard's condition worsened before they were even halfway to the Manor.

Right in front of Damian, Robin's shoulders slumped then jerked back up several times during the ride and Damian is concerned. Black Tern doesn't want Robin's current weakness to be publicized for the villains to see, which is what will happen when his brother falls victim to a road accident.

So he tightened his grip on his brother; for once glad he and Richard are forced to share a bike during patrol. Father hadn't wanted for Damian to drive on his own yet - something that Damian had planned to change in the near future.

"'M awake...Damie..." the slurring in his brother's voice took away Damian's concern and replaced it with anger - anger that his brother was too stubborn to admit weakness even though it would risk their lives. Damian did not gain a brother just to have illness take him away.

"Pull over." He commanded.

"I can handle this..."

"I repeat, Pull. Over." He squeezed his brother's waist in warning and Richard complies.

The bike slowed to a stop on a side road and Damian climbed off. He took the handle of the bike with one hand and used his other arm to firmly push back on Robin's chest.

"W-what're you doing...?"

"I refuse to be party to an accident waiting to happen." Richard's body was unusually hot and yet he was shivering in the chill night air despite their insulated costumes. Damian gave a noise of derision and wormed his way to the front of the bike, grabbing both of his brother's arms to wrap around his waist. "I will drive the rest of the way. You stay awake and keep your grip."

"But you haven't..."

"I have studied your movements and compared them with several motorbike driving manuals from Father's library. I have also logged thirty hours on the driving sim in the Cave." He settled himself comfortably on the front seat of the bike. "Rest assured that if I lose control, I have adequate knowledge to repair my error."

The nod he received was as sleepy as the response, "Okay... trust you, Damie...S-sorry I got mad..."

He needed to take his brother home quickly, but Damian couldn't help but be startled at the sudden apology. While he admitted to himself that his brother's contempt had hurt, he mostly ignored that stab of pain in favor of making sure Richard comes back to the Manor safely. He was trained from early on to make no excuses and to rectify all errors as efficiently as he could to meet his objective - it didn't matter if the error came from him or from another source. Never in his life had anyone apologized to him and he didn't know how to accept it.

So he remained silent and started the engine. It will take little more than ten minutes to drive all the way back to the Manor.

"You're...quiet... You mad?"

"No," Damian answered his brother honestly, feeling the excessive heat from his brother warm his neck. "I am not angry with you."

"Sorry...I just feel..._aster-less_," he groaned and a sudden weight on Damian's shoulders meant Richard's head had lost its fight to stay upright. "Being sick sucks."

"So I've been told." Damian agreed.

The weight shifted and Richard's voice came over his shoulder. "You...you've never been sick?"

"I was bred for superiority and bio-engineered to be near-infallible. No, I have never been ill." His Grandfather had considered disease and sickness a nuisance to be overcome so he had Damian inoculated against the most common childhood illnesses and even some of the adult ones. Damian's food and surroundings back in the compound had also been carefully regulated to give him the healthiest environment to develop in.

"Lucky you..." Richard muttered then fell silent. The weight on Damian's back also increased, a sign that his brother had fallen asleep.

Damian kept the sigh to himself and drove on. He supposed he _was _lucky in that illness never touched him, but he wasn't lucky in the circumstances of _why _he was the healthiest child in Gotham. Being bio-engineered to be the most efficient assassin was not a luxury. And Damian had never had a typical childhood.

His Father must have called ahead to the Manor because Pennyworth was waiting for them when he and Richard arrived at the Cave. The butler was standing by the area of the Cave designated as the garage with an expectant expression - but that was all Damian noted before his concentration shifted in favor of parking the bike.

Before coming to a stop, Damian leaned too heavily on the handlebars and nearly caused the bike to buck under him but his quick reflexes managed to keep his control without dislodging his passenger. The manual had neglected to warn him against this mistake and his Father's sim was definitely lacking in the parking part of riding a motorbike. He noted to himself to speak with his Father about upgrading the sim.

Then Pennyworth was there, picking up Robin and removing the teen's helmet as he strode for the nearest medical bed.

"Pennyworth?" Damian asked curiously, following him. It was unusual for the butler to treat Richard's sudden illness as serious enough for the Cave's resources. He'd supposed a mere fever only required rest and plenty of fluids to be cured; thereby leaving Richard to rest in his room and not the Cave. Perhaps the butler knew of something more alarming than a sudden fever?

" 'Tis a mere precaution, Master Damian," the butler explained, gently laying his brother on a medical bed. "This is neither flu season nor has Master Dick been needlessly exerting himself recently. I might be mistaken, but the sudden onset of this fever may have been unnatural."

Damian frowned, stepping to one side of Richard's bed. He had removed his helmet as soon as he climbed off the bike and now set it on the nearest surface. "You mean he was poisoned."

"Or it could simply be a wound left untreated, perhaps a case of allergies," Pennyworth efficiently readied Richard for examination; taking his temperature, scanning his skin for rashes. "Not everything starts because of ill intentioned villains, Master Damian."

"That is what it appeared to me." Damian defended, crossing his arms over his chest. The suddenness of Richard's illness was definitely suspicious.

At that moment though, Richard moaned and his head shifted in Damian's direction. "Damie...?"

"I'm here," the younger teen grabbed his brother's flailing hand, frowning at the heat that radiated from the pale limb. "Your temperature is high above normal, Richard. I'll retrieve an ice pack..."

"Right here, Master Damian," Pennyworth suddenly appeared beside him, holding out an ice pack. "I will return with water for Master Dick." The butler turned crisply on his heel and went to another area of the Cave.

"Sorry you couldn't finish patrol tonight, Damie..." Richard's voice was still weak but no longer breathy. There was an underlying rasp though, that Damian could easily hear and he concluded that Richard's throat must be dry.

"Refrain from speaking, Richard," he scolded the older teen. "You will only aggravate your vocal chords."

Richard smiled; if he was trying for a reassuring one, he failed miserably at it. But Damian kept that thought to himself. "Don't worry so much...I'll be fine in a few days..."

Damian shook his head. "You heard what Pennyworth said. This is not a normal illness."

"What isn't normal?" Batman demanded as he stalked in from the Cave's vehicle area.

Richard started to wave off his concern but Damian spoke first, in a voice pitched to carry over to Batman, "Father, I demand a complete laboratory diagnostic to check on Richard."

Batman remained silent while strode towards them, coming to a stop beside Richard's bed. The man carefully assessed the older teen with a piercing look before turning to Damian. "Explain."

Damian nodded and complied. "Pennyworth mentioned influenza was out of season and Richard had not been exerting himself to exhaustion recently. Neither did we have any encounters with toxic villains in our patrols, nor come into contact with biohazard materials.

"And yet this illness came upon Richard suddenly, without a seeming cause. I suspect there is an airborne virus and if such, then I demand that Richard be inoculated for it."

"That would require hundreds of samplings of the city atmosphere." Batman pointed out.

"Then I request that we start with Richard's blood work and develop a cure first, before we search for the cause."

Damian could detect Father's raised eyebrow even beneath the cowl. "And if Dick's lab results come up with symptoms of the common flu?"

The younger teen crossed his arms petulantly. "I believe there is an influenza vaccine available in the market."

Father sighed and pulled off the cowl, taking the empty seat beside Richard. "Even if we have the vaccine now, we can't inject it into Dick until at least one week after he recovers."

"And if he does not?"

Batman gave him a look. "He will."

"I'll be fine, you guys," Richard complained from the cot. "Really. I'm sick, not _dying_."

"You will be if you do not recover quickly, Richard," Damian said with conviction.

Richard opened his mouth to say something but Pennyworth thrust a tray with a glass of water between them. "Water, Master Dick?"

"Thanks, Alfie," Richard smiled and reached for the glass with a shaking hand.

"T-t." Seeing his brother's difficulty, Damian grabbed the glass and held it to Richard's lips. The teen's shaking weariness was a temptation for disaster, and Damian didn't want his brother to be drenched while he was vulnerable. Water invites a change in temperature that may prove dangerous to a sick teen and Damian didn't want that. He didn't want his brother to be this vulnerable at all.

It was a sobering situation. From the moment they'd met, Richard had always been able to defend himself adequately if needed. But now he was too weak to talk, too weak to even move. While Damian had been inoculated against the most common illnesses, his brother was not.

It had never occurred to Damian that there were some dangers he couldn't protect his brother from - until now.


	6. Chapter 6

Notes: If you must know, I've never tried kadaif. I just did some research on Middle Eastern pastries heh.

* * *

Grayson's condition didn't improve. Father decided to take Damian's demands seriously this time, running test after test to diagnose Richard's sudden illness. The boy had even offered the remaining portion of the _kadaif _that Mother sent him - even though he detested the loss of his favored treat, he realized that he valued Richard's well-being more. So he handed the container to Father for testing, ignoring the memory of his own voice telling his brother that to Talia, the older teen and Pennyworth were 'necessary casualties.'

But to Damian's relief, Father found nothing incriminating in the pastry. The container was returned with a quarter of the portion left uneaten, but the boy's worry had settled heavily in his abdomen and he found he had no appetite for the treat.

He carefully wrapped Richard tighter with the blanket. The teen's muscles had developed spasms overnight that left him in a constant state of shivering and twitching. So Damian had swaddled his brother in case the nerve spasms induce the teen into hurting himself.

And test after test regularly gave out negative results.

"I hate this..." Richard whispered underneath the blanket.

"Hate what?" Damian asked, pausing in the middle of helping his brother sit up. He had one arm around Richard's shoulders while the other brought a glass of water close for the teen to drink. It was an awkward position for the boy; he was strong enough to support the older teen but his arm felt small against his brother's back, and his other hand had to be kept steady to keep the water from spilling...

"I hate being like this..." Richard muttered, waving lazily at himself. "Weak. Can't stand without falling over. Everything hurts."

Damian gave him an assessing look and berated him, "If you recovered quickly, you wouldn't be feeling weak any longer."

"Tell that to my body."

Damian scowled at him. "This is not a time to take your illness lightly, Richard."

Fever-bright blue eyes glared back at the boy. "I _am_ taking this seriously! I've been resting and drinking and-" Richard huffed, one arm flopping back on the cot. "I swear it's like I've been poisoned and I can't flush it out of my system."

Damian's scowl lessened into a frown this time as an idea occurred to him. He remained quiet as Richard drank the water and then carefully set the glass down on the table beside the cot. Then, he eased his brother back down and re-tucked the blanket around him.

"Thanks, Damie," Richard's voice was fading fast into sleep. "You're a great bro."

Damian watched his brother sleep for a few moments before he stood up and left the medical area.

He had research to do.

_"Poisons," the instructor stated emotionlessly, "the most preferred method of killing by women. It is a vital weapon in the assassin's arsenal."_

_Damian watched the squirrel twitching on the table. He'd shot it full of the experimental EG-6 formula and now he was told to watch its effects._

_"See how it spasms? This means the poison has reached the nervous system. Earlier it tried to expel the formula via vomiting, but the toxin has already been absorbed by the body. There will be no expelling for this target. But that isn't the best thing about this formula."_

_Damian glanced up at his instructor, curious. "Then what is the best thing, doctor?"_

_"Why, the fact that once ingested, this poison is virtually undetectable. Any and all laboratory testing merely shows the body's reactions, but none of the true cause. Only those who know what to specifically look for can the toxin be found. And there is nothing medical professionals can do but alleviate the symptoms - perhaps for the rest of the target's entire life."_

The bank of monitors was busy scrolling through various analyses and computations of Richard's ailment. Father had made sure he didn't overlook any detail to find out what caused his brother's sudden illness - it made the teen irritable thanks to all the needle prodding he had to endure. But Batman was adamant that the cure must be found at all costs.

For his part, Damian had watched his Father closely and once in a while suggested possible toxins and poisons that could have been introduced to his brother. But as the negative results piled up, Damian realized the poison must have been something his Father hadn't encountered before.

Damian, on the other hand, did.

His brief talk with Richard made him recall a few choice memories he would rather forget for the demeaning way he was treated back at the League of Assassins' base. And those memories not only brought to mind a possible culprit for Richard's illness, but also a problem he realized would need to be addressed before he could search for a cure.

His time with the League of Assassins had taught Damian how to kill both with or without evidence. He had teachers who were masters of the sciences, of martial arts, of strategy - one of them had been one of the foremost authorities on chemical toxins, poisons, and venoms. If the League of Assassins concocted a new formula to silently eliminate their target without leaving a trace, Damian's instructor would know about it.

And the man, in turn, taught the al Ghul heir everything he knew.

Batman left early that night for patrol, leaving the Cave empty except for him and a sleeping Richard. Damian took his Father's seat and brought up his brother's latest blood sample analysis. He typed in a few search parameters and sat back to wait for the results. A few minutes passed before the Crays finished the analysis: positive.

If anyone glanced into the Cave, they would see a calm Damian rising from Batman's seat and erasing his search from the Cray's logs. Damian may not have spent years living with Batman, but he knew of his Father's methods and could accurately predict what the man's reaction would be if Damian presented to him this test result. And no matter what, Damian could _not_ allow his Father to follow through on this lead; Batman had nothing to bargain with, but Damian did.

What he had would be valuable in his Father's hands, but at the same time it was the only thing viable enough to gain the al Ghuls' attention and Damian would willingly part with it if he needed to. He had just gained a father and brother for himself after years of instructors and Mother. He'd rather not lose the family he'd come to be fond of if he can help it.


	7. Chapter 7

Notes: Shifting POV for a few chappies here. We'll go back to Damian soon enough.

anonymous17: Uh, thanks, but I'm sure there are other Damian fics better than mine out there. I'm glad you like my fic though. Thanks again :)

* * *

Bruce

To say that Batman was stressed would be an understatement. He was frustrated to the point where he had to take down sixteen criminals before he felt like he could breathe again. And still there was no end to the evil that Gothamites do in pursuit of power. This city does no one any favors, least of all her self-styled protectors.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and forced himself to step lighter on the accelerator. The Batmobile was a powerful vehicle and could easily outpace any of the contenders on the racing track; but tonight there was no need for reckless speed in his driving. Tonight was one of Gotham's rare uninteresting nights when the most exciting street crime to happen would be a gang war between two rival street gangs. But Batman had already forced the street gangs' violent tendencies to a standstill with his extra-vigilant campaign tonight.

Dick would have cracked a joke by this time in the efforts of lightening things up.

His link to the Cave beeped and Batman glanced at his dashboard computer almost as an afterthought. _Speaking of Dick... _The negative result from Dick's latest tissue sample he half-expected. What he didn't expect was the alert that indicated someone accessing the Crays - and the research that had been left running.

"Live video feed." He commanded and lifted his foot from the accelerator - just slightly. "Cave 014." The screen on the dashboard computer shifted into the feed from one of the cameras Bruce had installed in the Cave. This one was situated across the Crays so he could see who was using the Crays as well as a small monitor that logged who last used the powerful computer. He'd had the cameras installed only recently to keep an eye on his boys - one of whom had a penchant for sneaking into his files when he was out patrolling, and the other for sneaking in _whenever_. It also helped to let him know if the Cave was ever breached.

The sight of the empty seat by the monitors running analyses had him raising an eyebrow. With Dick's sudden illness, Damian was frequently seen checking the analyses for himself even if Bruce or Alfred had already summarized the results at least three times a day. It wouldn't be far off the mark if it had been Damian who used the Crays - as evidenced by the log. What surprised Bruce was the fact that Damian had actively typed commands into the Crays.

"Live video feed. Cave 009."

The screen shifted to show the program running on the Cave's monitor Damian had accessed. The boy had set parameters for another chemical analysis to run.

_What does ergoline have to do with... _

The positive result froze his thoughts solid.

Traces of ergoline alkaloid were found in Dick's blood samples.

_And Damian found it._

Triumph and anxiety warred within Bruce as he debated with himself whether to feel success now that they knew what poison Dick was fighting or concern because the ergoline alkaloid present looks like it was tampered with and that his other son - the son whose other half came from the League of Assassins - was the one to find the poison.

While Batman expected Damian al Ghul-Wayne to be intelligent, he hadn't expected the boy to know enough about uncommon toxins or diseases to search for it. Batman should have taken a closer look at the boy's training regimen from his time with the League of Assassins. Other than the preliminary weapons and combat assessment he did the first few days Damian came to the Manor, Bruce hadn't checked into the subjects the boy was taught farther than 'which poisons would incapacitate the target prior to elimination' and 'which anatomical part is the most vulnerable for a killing strike.'

True, Bruce held a deep loathing for killing but it wasn't an excuse for him to be so lacking in a thorough interrogation - even if the boy in question was his son.

Which now brings Bruce to another worry: what would Damian be planning to do, armed with knowledge of the poison that was slowly killing Dick?

And the answer was: a lot.

So he put in a call to the Cave to check on D- _both _his sons.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news, sir," Alfred's voice was full of regret with an underlying tone of worry. Bruce barely had time to presume the trouble Damian had caused before the butler continued, "Master Damian is gone."

"Gone where?" he could only hold back the growl _just so._

"He neglected to inform me, sir. And he has taken pains to erase his destination from the logs."

Batman mentally added 'search for a wayward bird' on his list of things to look into then turned back to the conversation. "I'll handle Damian. How's Dick?"

The pause before Alfred's voice came back spoke volumes as to the butler's emotions. Even before the words came, Bruce could already feel dread creeping into his chest. "I also have worse news, Master Bruce." Alfred said with a grim sigh. "Master Dick has fallen into a coma."

His stomach turned to ice. For Dick to become comatose so quickly means the ergoline alkaloid in the poison was formulated to become more efficient...and effective. At this rate, Dick could...

He stopped the Batmobile and stared straight ahead into the city. Gotham City spread out for miles beyond the windshield of his car. Somewhere out there could be the cure for the poison raging in Dick; but a few miles behind him lay a little boy - _his _little boy - burning in the grip of a painful illness. Dick is in a deep sleep now and he probably won't know if Bruce was right beside him...

He stepped on the gas again to hit the intersection two blocks ahead. The streets were usually empty in this part of the city by this time so it was easy for him to make a u-turn and start racing back to the Manor. True, he could spend his time searching for the antidote but without a lead, he might as well be looking for the needle in a haystack while blindfolded.

And right now, his son needed him home.

Moments later, he was parking the Batmobile with a screech that would have annoyed the bats had they been in residence.

"I alerted you when I couldn't wake him," Alfred explained as soon as he stepped out of the Batmobile. The butler's eyes were red-rimmed with strain and yet he stood with his back still unbowed. Bruce strode for the MedBay while Alfred continued his report. "His condition remains the same and I have taken pains to treat the symptoms as soon as they appear."

"But he's not getting better." Bruce muttered. He'd reached his son's medical bed by this time and he took one of Dick's hands into his own. The boy was so still. He was tempted to lean over to check if Dick was still breathing but the slow rise and fall of his small chest was already proof of that. But the temptation remained.

Dick had always been a boy of movement; even in sleep he was twitching and turning to sprawl all over his bed. Bruce had sometimes wondered how Dick slept during the nights before he took the boy in. He'd seen the small trailer where Dick used to live with his parents while they traveled with the circus. The tiny bed designated for the boy was barely wide enough to fit him with his arms akimbo, let alone long enough for his legs. To see him so still was...unnatural.

Bruce didn't need to look at Alfred to see the defeated posture the butler adopted at the sight of the boy's too pale skin. "No, sir. I'm afraid without the antidote... We can only delay the inevitable."

Bruce growled and tightened his grip on Dick's hand. "Not happening."

"If you have an idea, sir, I would be glad to hear it."

Bruce glanced sharply at the butler. Alfred's fondness for Dick was unquestionable but their current helplessness at the boy's situation was equally as frustrating to Alfred as it was to Bruce. And while Bruce usually had the criminals of Gotham to beat his frustration on, Alfred was an old hand at being patient and praying for his charges to come home each night. It hadn't been that long ago when the people under Alfred's care had increased by one, and then two...

Bruce frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Damian."

"He's still missing, Master Bruce."

"No," Bruce shook his head before making his way to the Crays. "Before he left, Damian had been running another analysis on Dick's blood." He shot a meaningful glance towards the butler. "He also found what was poisoning Dick."

Alfred's eyes widened as his back straightened in hope. "What was it?"

"A compound that includes ergoline alkaloid."

"My word." Alfred gasped both in surprise, and - as Alfred was also familiar with poison - at the implications of a toxin derived from a contaminated grain product. His next question echoed a similar suspicion Bruce had had when he saw the result. "Then Master Damian's present from his mother...?"

But Bruce shook his head. "I ran a thorough analysis of the _kadaif._ There was nothing suspicious within the pastry itself, even the packaging it came in with." He rubbed his temple when a sharp pain made itself known. "Whatever poisoned Dick must have already been in his system, lying dormant."

Through the Crays' reflection, Bruce could see Alfred similarly frowning in puzzlement. "Strange. And the only thing unusual that happened in the past few days had been-"

"The Joker's hijacking of the studio. He must know something about what happened to Dick."


	8. Chapter 8

Notes: This one's kinda short. Next chappie will be Bruce's POV again.

pokerfacedcat: Hope you like where I'm taking this fic :)

* * *

Damian

The office was empty. It wasn't the kind of empty that meant an abandoned workspace with clear desks and no visible clutter, but rather the kind that meant professionals had already come and gathered all the useful data to be found; leaving Damian with nothing but the scraps of worthless memos and broken furniture.

Damian curled his lip in disgust at the mess the 'cleaners' left for him. He should have expected his Grandfather not to make things easy - the al Ghuls live a life of luxury and challenge; never letting themselves be complacent. Damian was trained to be the same - it was why Grayson had never been able to catch him sleeping. The lightest footsteps and softest breaths sounded like an alarm klaxon to his sensitive hearing and would instantly send him awake.

He stepped further into the littered room. This had been the office of his poisons teacher - before Mother sent him away when Damian mastered the training. By the amount of disorder in the man's office however, it looked like Mother didn't send him away but rather made sure he couldn't reveal the League of Assassins' secrets. Damian's poisons teacher was now permanently unavailable for consultation - and with him, Damian's lead on an antidote for his brother.

The flutter of a wind-borne paper scrap drew his attention. Apparently it weren't enough for the cleaners to overturn the furniture, to slash the walls, and to scatter the leftover documents. They'd had to break one of the windows in the small office and that was where the night breeze came in to blow the paper around. Damian followed the scrap until it rested on the edge of a wrecked oak table.

He was about to dismiss the piece of paper when a glint to the left caught his eye. Damian drew closer and found a knife stuck to one side of the table, just two inches away from the large crack running down the middle of the table.

It was evidence that proved the destruction of this office hadn't been reported to the proper authorities and that there hadn't been any official investigation yet. Police officers would have taken anything suspicious. The knife being left here was also a sign that Damian understood well enough: the League of Assassins had been here and they were expecting Damian's presence soon.

He grabbed the hilt of the protruding knife and yanked it out of the stained wood. The knife blade, the al Ghul crest on the hilt - it felt familiar in his hand, cementing his conclusion that this setup was not for Father to find but for _him_.

Damian's poisons teacher had been 'encouraged' to live with the al Ghuls to train the heir. Once that obligation had been fulfilled, there was no longer any need for the man unless he was similarly 'encouraged' to join the League of Assassins in a supportive capacity. If he refused though, Grandfather would never allow a possible leak of information so certain measures of 'execution' and 'clean up' had to be taken.

The man's office, residence, even his place of study would then be ransacked to salvage more of his work for the League's use. The world would not have missed the loss of one of its poison experts and the League's secrets would remain hidden. The League of Assassins does not like to have loose ends.

Damian would find nothing of use in this broken office now. But the knife and the destruction of the furniture reeked of his Mother's signature: From the package sent to him, to Richard's illness, and now to this ruined office. Talia al Ghul had set things in advance so when Damian came to look for the antidote to his brother's poisoning, she made sure he knew that she had done it - and that she might have the antidote as well.

Damian really should have expected as much.

_The squirrel jerked. Its left front paw smashed onto the table hard enough to break its tiny fingers. The right was already bent at an unnatural angle that flopped in all directions. And still the convulsions continued._

_"As you can see," Damian's instructor observed loudly, "the toxin has induced powerful involuntary muscle seizures that would be suspect if done without extenuating circumstances. Undetectable this toxin may be after it has run its course, but the damage it wreaks on the body would still prove that poison had been used." The man turned emotionless eyes on him. "Unless, of course, you were planning to use your target's death as an example; only then will the use of this toxin be acceptable."_

_A dull crack brought Damian's attention back to the squirrel. A particularly powerful convulsion had caused it to crush its skull against the table and now it lay limp and lifeless in a growing pool of blood. _

_"Oh look," the instructor clicked his tongue in disapproval. "It would appear this formulation was too potent for the size of the subject."_

_As the man left the observation table to mix another formulation, Damian watched as the blood steadily ran down the formerly sterile table._


	9. Chapter 9

Notes: Still a short chapter. Next couple will still be somewhat short too, then the rest will return to previous length.

pokerfacedcat and Dextra2: Glad to see you. Hope you like this one!

* * *

Bruce

The Joker sat across him, arms restrained by a straightjacket. His sick grin slid left to right to encompass the entire room, as though he was searching for something in the otherwise barren interrogation room. The clown had done this before; he knew the drill.

He was searching for the Bat.

Batman decided not to prolong his visit and stepped out of the shadows. The Joker's manic eyes immediately went to him.

"Batsy!" The clown greeted as though he was seeing an old friend. "How nice to see you again! Not gonna send me home in a cast too?"

Batman let the taunts slide. He too, had been through this several times before. The trick in dealing with this clown is not to fall into the trap of his goading. The Joker always spoke twenty words when he only meant three.

Batman on the other hand...

"What's your game, Joker."

"Ooh, are we playing a guessing game?" The Joker cackled and Batman knew if the clown's arms were free, he'd be clapping like a kid with a new toy. With the clown's unnaturally wide grin, it was a mental image Batman could do without. "What's the prize if I guess right?"

If circumstances were different, Batman would spend a minute or two in silence and let the Joker fill the quiet with his rambling. The clown didn't always mind what came out of his mouth and Batman had discovered pertinent information this way once or twice. But he had no time to play right now. "Answer the question, Joker."

"Still as impatient as ever. Birdy must be rubbing off on you." The clown threw his head back and laughed but his words quickly set Batman's mind on alert. While the Joker occasionally paid no attention to his own ramblings, this was one of those instances where he _did_. And for those types of instances, half the time the Joker tossed insults and statements to goad people into anger. But the other half, Joker casually dropped hints to lure people into coming closer, to ask the kind of questions _he _wanted to answer.

Meaning the clown _did _know something about what happened to Dick.

Batman slammed his fists onto the table. He leaned closer to Joker as he hissed, "What do you know."

"Something happened to the birdy, eh?" The clown shrugged. "Can't say I'm surprised. Kid's been playing this game how long? Gotta have made a lot of people angry, you know. _Dangerous _people."

Batman took the hint for what it was and decided to play along. He needed answers and he needed them _now_. "Dangerous like you."

The manic eyes flashed in indignation. "_Not _like me! Not at all like me! I don't strong-arm the other guys into being my errand boys, do I? And I _live _here! Why, we don't just treat our _nicer _neighbors into being mere messengers."

Batman kept his body still as he mentally puzzled out the Joker's answer: by 'other guys' and 'neighbors', Joker must mean the other Gotham rogues since they - and the other heroes - are the only people worth considering in the clown's mind. Then all the talk about living here in Gotham must mean whoever forced or manipulated the Joker into doing something for him must be an out-of-towner. And finally, what Joker meant by being someone else's messenger...

"When you took the studio hostage." Batman thought out loud. "It was a message."

"Well, the big guy never did say I couldn't have fun when I sent it, didn't he? And it was a really good message too! Did you know the running theme to that boring old soap? '_If you want something done, do it yourself._'" And Joker laughed at his own clever joke.

And Batman so hated that laugh. He ignored the resounding cackle as he demanded in a snarl, "Who."

The unnaturally wide grin returned to face him. "You haven't figured it out yet? Oh, it's so easy! Here, I'll give you a hint: did you know that headless cockroaches still live for up to a week? Of course you knew that, you're the _Goddamn Batman _after all! But I wonder," the Joker's grin turned suddenly malicious, "would ol' Beelzebub still live if you cut off _his head_?"

Batman felt ice travel down his spine. There was only one rogue the Joker could have meant with that statement:

"Ra's al Ghul."

Batman needed to get home - make that, _Damian _needed to get home. And they needed that antidote _yesterday_.


	10. Chapter 10

Notes: Well, this one's kinda long. Next chapter's short but it's the last one heh.

pokerfacedcat and Dextra2: I liked this chapter when I wrote it. Hope you do too :)

soccernin19: Hey, welcome to the Brotherhood verse! Hope you enjoy your visit here as we reach the conclusion of Inheritance :)

* * *

Bruce

Batman spent most of the night searching for clues not only for any of Ra's lackeys but also for Damian. While there was a chance that Damian had left to search for Dick's cure, Bruce wouldn't put it past Ra's to ensnare the boy in one of his complex schemes by holding Dick's life hostage. And Bruce wasn't about to lose both his sons while he could do something about it.

He was halfway back to the Manor - and the extensive resources of his Cave - when his comms beeped. The Batmobile's tires screeched on the sharp turn at Madison as he pressed the button to accept the call.

"Sir," Alfred's face greeted him on the dashboard screen, "I must warn you to prepare yourself before your return."

Suspicion and worry lurking in the back of his mind, his answer couldn't get past a growled, "What happened."

"Master Dick's _friends_ have been asking after him."

He was racing past the intersection by Lincoln. Batman didn't need to be distracted pandering with his son's team. "Tell them he'll be fine, but he's still out of commission-"

"You may tell them yourself, sir." The butler cut in.

This time, Batman spared a glance at the screen. "Pardon?"

Alfred took a deep breath and drew himself up - Bruce had the feeling that the butler had done something to override his authority once again; even though Bruce discouraged the butler's penchant for autonomous decisions, he let the old man be if only because more often than not, Alfred's decisions proved to be the better choice than Bruce's. He only hoped-

"I have taken the liberty of allowing them visiting rights."

The steering wheel in his hands creaked in protest when he tightened his grip. "Alfred..."

"I have good evidence that comatose patients can still hear on a subconscious level," The butler explained, "and thereby provide motivation for the patient to keep fighting. While you and Master Damian are out doing God knows what, I find myself to be severely lacking in providing an anchor for young Master Dick."

"Alfred, what-"

"He needs his family, sir."

The blunt statement had Batman nearly swerving into a lamppost. Despite having lost his parents from a very young age, Bruce had never felt the need to have a family. But when he'd taken the circus orphan under his wing, he'd realized just what it was he was missing. And before he knew it, him, Alfred, Dick, and now Damian, had formed a small family. It had always struck him how much Dick had given him just by coming into his life.

"Miss Martian has been willing enough to amplify our voices to reach deep into Master Dick's subconscious and convey our messages to him." Alfred continued, ignorant of the thoughts troubling Bruce. "I believe that it will keep Master Dick from leaving until your return with the antidote."

Bruce let out a deep sigh. Of course, Alfred went over Bruce's need of privacy for Dick. He had to do it for Dick. None of them could lose the boy.

"Has Damian...?"

It was the butler's turn to sigh. "There is still no word, sir."

Bruce nodded. "I'll be home in five minutes."

Wally was sitting beside Dick's bed when he returned. His footsteps were silent, so the speedster never heard him over the continuous monologue of Kid Flash's day, Wally West's boredom, the team's shenanigans, the weekend spent in Barry Allen's household, even a complaint or two on how one Roy Harper needs to _chillax_ at some point or his face will be permanently fixed into a scowl and Wally needed Dick to help with that so Dick had better wake up _and soon_.

"I swear, it's almost like he's taking cues from B-man!" Wally whined with his hands gesturing wildly.

Bruce paused in his steps, internally debating whether... with a hidden smirk, he decided to go for it. "What cues?"

Wally jumped at least three feet into the air, emitting a high-pitched yelp that Bruce could have sworn had come from a dog. Batman kept his face impassive when the speedster spun around with wide eyes filled with fear.

Bruce could almost hear his son accusing him, _'You enjoyed scaring the bejeezus out of Wally, didn't you?'_

_'Yes,' _was the answer...not that he would admit that to Dick.

"Batman," Wally gasped, bringing Bruce's attention back to the present. "Uhm...I was just...uhh..."

"What cues?" He growled, still keeping his smirk to himself.

"Uhm...it was...that is..._I gotta go_."

A quick blur and an unnatural breeze later, Bruce was alone in the Cave's Medbay with his son. He took the seat Wally had vacated and held Dick's limp hand in his own.

"Hold on, Dick." He whispered to the silent figure. "Fight. Don't let Ra's win."

But the eyes remained closed and the fingers never twitched.

Bruce sighed and stood up to head for bed. For nights he'd been combing the streets of Gotham and wreaking mayhem on the criminal underworld for the antidote to the poison ravaging Dick's body; all to no avail. And tomorrow, he planned to do more of the same...unless Damian called back with news.

He was sure now that the younger boy had left to do his own searching; ever since the two boys met, they'd been near-inseparable. Bruce had encouraged their closeness at first because he was worried Damian's upbringing would result in a scandal at best, a catastrophe at worst. But Dick had turned that around and not only converted the younger boy's world views, he'd also insinuated himself into Damian's heart.

Both Bruce and Alfred had seen it; how Damian would ask after Dick whenever they weren't in the same room together, how Damian would shyly share some of his food with Dick, and how angry Damian would get when something hurts or threatens to hurt Dick. The incident with the Games Master months ago was just one example.

The protectiveness of the younger boy wasn't obvious if you didn't pay attention. The concerned questions, the sharing - they were all reminiscent of a sibling looking out for another. You had to remember that Damian was born and had spent the first few years of his life a single child and therefore, would have no idea how sibling relationships should work.

And yet, Dick took to being a big brother like a duckling takes to water...and Damian followed.

"...to be honest, I don't know whether to trust him or not." Artemis' voice came floating from the staircase leading up to the Manor. "I mean, the whole thing with Marin and then at the mall. The kid's obviously protective of Dick."

"And yet Wally still voices his concerns over Damian's...upbringing." Kaldur's voice responded. Both were coming closer to the Medbay and Batman remained silent so he could hear them.

"Of course, Baywatch would complain!" Artemis huffed in annoyance. "Can't you see he's jealous?"

"Jealous? Over Robin?"

A brief pause wherein Bruce imagined Artemis to be rolling her eyes in exasperation, and then, "Over Robin's _attention_. They're best friends. Have been for years. And suddenly Robin's got a kid brother and now the best friend would have to be priority number three. Who wouldn't be jealous?"

"I had believed they had...worked things out."

"If you call shooting laser beams at each other with their eyes as 'worked things out.' I could have sworn those two would be setting Mt. Justice on fire with just a look."

"True, I had noticed their mutual exchange of scowls. Still, I had believed Damian's concern for Robin would be evidence enough that he values Richard's well-being."

"Sure, he does. But what if you were ordered to...y'know, do something _bad_."

There was a silence as both teenagers pondered the question before Kaldur's grudging, "I see your point."

"And now that the kid's gone doing who knows what in who knows where?" Their footsteps stopped just beyond the curtain separating Dick from the rest of the Cave. "Baywatch isn't taking it lightly."

Then Artemis pulled the curtain open to reveal Batman sitting quietly beside his son.


	11. Chapter 11

Notes: The last short chapter for this fic! There's a bit of excitement in the next chappie, so watch for it :)

Dextra2: Hope you like this one too :)

the Guest who left me a review in a foreign language: Thanks! I'm glad you like my stuff :D

* * *

Damian

The League of Assassins weren't hard to find if one knows where to look. Damian had been drilled frequently on the locations of all League of Assassins hideouts as well as the projects assigned to each. Each location had been meticulously maintained to keep curious outsiders from suspecting anything; utilities were kept at a constant, supplies transported legally, employees hired on a contractual basis to keep a steady stream of workers going in and out. Grandfather had taken pains to make sure each hideout raised no suspicion that each company front was actually part of the large al Ghul network.

And all Damian had to do to find which front his Mother and Grandfather currently resided in was to check which one held the most number of personal guards. Mother and Grandfather took their security seriously and only trusted a handful few with the job of protection - Ubu, and themselves. The guards were mostly for show and to act as filters to keep the unworthy out.

Damian though, should have been one of those the guards let in without hesitation. But he found himself knocking out the two sentries by the entrance, as well as destroying the closed circuit cameras hidden in a shadowed corner of the guard shack. He'd even had to disable or hack the other security devices surrounding the entrance.

He had hoped his entrance wouldn't catch his Grandfather's attention. He'd been prepared for a confrontation with his Mother and Grandfather; but that didn't mean he _wanted _a confrontation with them. The first handful of years of his life had ingrained obedience and complete loyalty to the al Ghul legacy - it wasn't a habit so easily broken. So he stealthily ran through the corridors of the remote compound and wished that he hadn't been noted.

And yet, when he entered one of the receiving rooms on the way to the chemical laboratories below ground, Damian really shouldn't have been surprised to see his Grandfather seated on his throne with Mother standing beside him, waiting for Damian. A dozen guards were positioned in a half-circle behind the two, their stances stiff as statues. The guards were unnecessary of course, but Ra's al Ghul liked to keep up appearances - all the better for the enemy to underestimate him.

The slimmer figure of his Mother came closer to the light so Damian could see her pleased smile.

"Welcome home, my son," Mother greeted, "we've been anticipating your return for some time."

Damian really should have expected the two of them to know exactly when he'd entered the base. "Mother," he nodded a greeting to her and to the head of House al Ghul, "Grandfather."

"Damian," Ra's al Ghul acknowledged the greeting with a benevolent wave of his hand. "Did you enjoy your stay with your Father?"

He started to nod but then caught himself just in time. The League of Assassins still prides itself with their cold, calculating efficiency; a trainee enjoying himself during training means he isn't dedicated enough to persevere. So Damian schooled his expression into something impassive. "I have learned much about civilian life during my stay."

"And?" Mother prompted.

"And I found them to be wanton, undisciplined, uninspired, and lacking any redeemable qualities."

Mother and Grandfather nodded with agreeing smiles on their faces.

"Now you see why I seek to rid this world of its current inhabitants," Grandfather said, standing up. "Greed. Corruption. Pollution. Such unworthy descendants. They seek merely to increase their worldly wealth without a whit for the Earth that provided them life. There is no hope for these immoral people.

"No hope at all," Grandfather shook his head, striding for the door at the back of the room. His squad of guards fell in step behind him. "I have amassed a large fortune with all my centuries of living on this Earth. And with it, I have built shelters filled with weapons, food and water resources - places where only the worthy can take refuge in the coming apocalypse."

"And we are the ones who will choose the worthy ones." Mother added.

Grandfather turned to give her an indulgent smile. "Yes, dear Talia. We will be the ones to decide who will stay with us," he nodded at Damian, "People like your father. He is an heir worthy of joining the new Earth that we will create."

Damian had heard all of this before. Each time he wasn't training, Mother regaled him with Grandfather's ideals every spare moment she could. From birth he had been raised with the principles of the al Ghuls and the League of Assassins. But in the few months he had been living with his Father...

"What of the ones who are unworthy?" he asked, though he already knew of the answer.

Grandfather waved a dismissive hand. "They shall be left behind, of course. We will not spare them any of our painstakingly gathered resources." He'd reached the door by this time and over his shoulder he ordered, "Talia, tell him of how we will convince the Detective to join us." And he left.

Damian could feel his heart skip a beat. What did his Grandfather mean by that?


	12. Chapter 12

Notes: Just a couple more chapters to go. This whole fic totals 15 chapters; and I hope to be able to work on the next fic in the series soon. I already have the basic idea, I just need to figure out how to go about telling that idea heh.

my Russian Guest: Thank you! I'm very flattered that I have a fan from Russia! It's a very long way from where I am :D By the way, when you write your reviews, do you write solely in Russian? Because I think FFnet automatically translates your language into English when it sends me the review; which is a very nifty tool of theirs. It's my first time to receive reviews in a foreign language :D

Starshinesoldier: Here's a seatbelt. Hang on for a short ride ;)

anonymous17: I think you might have mentioned it, but I don't mind hearing it again :D

* * *

"Mother," he demands of Talia - _pleads_ of her. Ra's al Ghul had long wanted to have Father become the heir to the League of Shadows and part of his schemes would always have a contingency that might convince Father to support Grandfather's efforts. So far, Batman had always succeeded in thwarting Ra's al Ghul's plans. But there was something in the way that Grandfather had commanded Mother to tell him about his latest scheme; something that told Damian he had to know just what it entailed. "Mother, what did Grandfather mean?"

Talia al Ghul though, kept silent as she lowered herself on Grandfather's throne.

"Mother?"

"Months ago, I took the boy, Robin," Mother spoke as if she was talking about a character she'd read in a storybook. "I kept him for an hour before I had him brought to your cell."

Damian frowned. His brother in the hands of his Mother already brought to mind the many things she could have done; not the least of which being...

"You poisoned him." He stated.

"Not really," Mother waved an unconcerned hand. "Your Father would have found out immediately if poison ran in the circus orphan's veins. He would then decide to storm the compound with his allies to search for a cure and my plan would have been ruined before it came to fruition. But this way," she turned back to him with a pleased smile, "This way was perfect, wouldn't you agree?"

"I do not understand."

"I did not poison young Robin with an _active _toxin. Instead, I gave him a dose of EG-6. We had just successfully bred the stimulant in our homegrown pistachios four months ago."

Damian barely stifled the gasp that came from his Mother's revelation, but he couldn't stop his face from paling as he realized just how Talia al Ghul planned for his Father to join the League of Assassins.

EG-6 was one of the last poisons his teacher had formulated for the League of Assassins. It was derived from the toxic ergot alkaloid, broken down and restructured into a more potent toxin, but also formulated to react to certain potentiators extracted from one of the 'special' azithromycin vials in the al Ghul compound. But the toxin had been deemed unusable because the azithromycin couldn't be given under minute amounts. EG-6 was only effective over a long-term dosage.

Apparently, the League had managed to formulate a better potentiator recently. If Damian's Mother had injected Richard with a large dosage of the dormant EG-6, a small amount of the potentiator would be enough to make the toxin react - much like a spark igniting a bonfire.

The gift that had been sent to Damian, the _kadaif_, did have a hidden purpose as to why it was sent. His Mother had sent it in the hopes that Richard would eat at least a portion - a portion small enough to contain the minimum amount of azithromycin needed to stimulate the toxin. And without a cure, Richard would die within a few days. Father would be forced to bargain with Ra's al Ghul to save Richard; giving Ra's al Ghul the advantage in their negotiations.

But what of Damian?

"And my role in all this?" he could barely whisper with his throat gone dry.

"Your role has always been the same, my son." Mother's smile was indulgent as she explained, "This was all done to prepare the way for you. Now that you have gained Beloved's trust, there is no need for the circus orphan to remain a rival. Once he is out of the way," her smile became a smug grin, "my son will stand to inherit the legacy of the Waynes _and_ the Al Ghuls."

Of course, it was him. It had always been him; Damian was the hostage to convince Father of the superiority of the al Ghul line, the catalyst for yet another conflict between Batman and the League of Assassins, and the reason why Richard lies comatose in a sickbed back in Gotham.

Richard, his brother.

It was that last thought that firmed Damian's resolve in the confrontation he had been planning. Despite his haste in coming to the al Ghuls, Damian had prepared for exactly this type of contingency: he made sure he had something to bargain with.

He straightened his back, schooled his expression and asked, "Is there an antidote?"

Talia nodded slowly. "Of course. I had it made in the case the poison becomes too...uncontrollable."

"Good. Then I demand that you give it to me."

Talia's eyebrow rose in suspicion as she asked, "Why? Have you become fond of that circus orphan?"

His expression giving nothing away, Damian thought he might be able to save his bargaining chip in favor of appealing to his Mother's sentiments. So he stated, "Father will grieve. Excessively."

But Talia merely shrugged. "Beloved will learn to become fond of you, as well. You are his rightful heir. He will soon see that you are far superior to the likes of the orphan he took in."

Damian wasn't done. This part of the confrontation he had rehearsed in secret; back when another kidnapping attempt on Richard made Damian reevaluate his priorities. He'd anticipated early on that his Grandfather - or the League of Assassins - would try to harm Richard and he'd prepared for this eventuality; but the choice he was about to make still weighed heavily on his mind.

But this was to save his brother, the one person he valued more than any other.

So he took a deep breath and declared, "I will reiterate: Give me the antidote, _Mother_. Or I will release my extensive knowledge of your and Grandfather's operations to the Justice League. All your hidden facilities, corporation fronts, political allies, even the contracts the League of Assassins have successfully completed. You will be on the run, your resources frozen, your allies watched or jailed or worse. The al Ghul legacy will be nothing."

Talia's eyes grew wide and she rose menacingly from Grandfather's throne. "You will do no such thing!"

"I have already made a file of everything I know." He continued, ignoring the rage in his mother's eyes. He clenched his fists and drew courage from an image of his brother's laughing face. "It is locked under my command and timed so that if I do not send a pre-coded signal, the file will be sent to the Watchtower as well as every member of the Justice League and its covert team." In a lower voice, he smiled as he remembered, "Richard assisted me in making it."

Talia snarled, "The circus brat cannot be trusted to keep this!"

Damian shook his head. "He helped me make the file, but he respected my privacy and never attempted to read it for himself. He has proven to be more trustworthy than you."

Talia stared at him with fury in her eyes. Damian had never seen his mother look at him like that; she'd always kept her expressions mysterious, unreadable...or at the very least, smug. She'd always been proud of him, of what he'll grow up to be. But in the few months he'd stayed with his Father, he realized that that pride wasn't for him. It was for his _accomplishments_ and what he'll bring into the house of al Ghul in the future.

In his Father's house he'd learned what it was to be valued for his own sake instead of what he could do. And it felt...incredible.

Talia gave a huff of frustration, bringing his attention back to the topic at hand. "Fine," she said, returning to her seat on Ra's throne. Her face was once again that unreadable expression that meant she was distancing herself from her emotions. "I will give you the antidote and I will cut off any access you have to our resources. Consider yourself an enemy of the League of Assassins."

Pain stabbed into his spine at Talia's declaration. It...hurt. More than he'd expected. His entire life was spent in service, a decade of loyalty; only to be rewarded with desertion, as if he was trash to be discarded...

But no, this was not his reward. His reward was a bright grin, a second cup of ice cream, a shared slice of too-sweet cake. And it was waiting for him back in the Manor.

He swallowed thickly and met his mother's stare. "Then I will endeavor to be a worthy enemy."

"Of course," Talia said coldly. "I raised you to be superior." Then she turned her back on him. _She turned her back to him_. It was an insult; an implication that he was a minor enough threat that she didn't need to keep a wary eye on him. All those years of his training and surpassing the tests she imposed on him...

His palms burned from clenching his fists too tight, but he heard her final instructions nonetheless:

"You will find the antidote to EG-6 in Laboratory 4. It is labeled as XEG-8."

Damian committed her words to memory; he already knew the way to the lab she mentioned and the likely freezer that would contain the antidote - the same freezer that held all the other antidotes to their custom-made poisons. It made things easier to find when the chemicals are organized by type even though only the ones who worked the lab knew what the labels stood for and which antidote was for which poison.

He took a step back and turned to leave. The conversation with his mother was finished, and all he had to do was bring the antidote to Richard. He'd barely taken three steps when another thought occurred to him and, without turning around, said, "If Grayson dies, I will release the file."

The voice that answered him was still cool and unemotional. "It is the correct antidote. I am a woman of my word; unlike my son, I have been raised to be loyal."

His chest throbbed at the hurt caused by her implied insult but he took a deep breath to bolster his courage and shot back, "You were my mother in name only. You were more my teacher and I can always find another. But I only have one brother." He didn't bother to say, '_And I would like to keep him', _as he walked out of the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Notes: This one's extra long ;)

Kew: Hey, no problem. You took the time to write a review so it follows that I take the time to respond to the review :) And I'm glad you also wrote the translation because otherwise, I'll just be sitting here scratching my head. Wow, Moscow! Now I know someone from Moscow! :D I'm glad to know that you're making the effort to learn English and yes, I agree that reading stories written in English is a good way of learning. You get to practice and have fun while doing so :D I like getting your reviews too; and I hope you enjoy reading this new chapter :)

anonymous17: I'm betting you'll like the last two chapters if that's the case ;)

Starshinesoldier: Unfortunately, I'm a slow writer so it'll be some time before I start posting the next story in this series. I've already started working on it though. In the meantime, enjoy the rest of this fic :)

* * *

The vial that held the cure for Richard's affliction was easy to spot, just as Talia described. What she did not mention though was that the moment Damian stepped out of the receiving room, his label of 'enemy of the League of Assassins' would take effect.

He quickly snatched the vial he wanted and leaped for the ventilation shaft above the laboratory table he'd pushed underneath it. The shaft was blocked by a grate that was flimsy enough to come apart in his hands. He dropped the grate with a clang and leaped into the opening. Normally, Damian would have carefully unscrewed the grate first but the League already knew where he was so he didn't see the need for silence. What he needed was a quick way back to the clearing where he'd hidden the Batjet.

Taking the high-powered jet without his Father noticing was not as difficult as he expected. Damian wasn't confident of his own hacking skills against his Father's systems but he figured Father had enough to worry him with Richard so fatally ill. Or, perhaps his Father had decided to give Damian the benefit of the doubt and refrained from sending out a locator signal. It didn't matter in any case; Damian had still managed to take his Father's jet and accomplished two-thirds of his goal. Now all he had to do was to return to the Manor and cure his brother.

The laboratory door burst open just as he'd pulled himself up into the shaft. Several clangs behind him meant that the ninjas had thrown shurikens at his disappearing boots - a waste of effort and ammunition, Damian thought with distaste - but the thrown weapons forced him to hurry his crawl.

If Talia instructed these ninjas on his visit, then she would have told them that he would be looking for an escape. The ninjas would then be split into several groups, majority of which should be gathering together at the compound's multiple exits or working to close some of those exits while a few scattered in an attempt to catch him.

But Damian had a plan. If he managed to evade the subpar ninjas long enough to reach the exit he'd planned on using, he could escape back to his Father unharmed.

He crawled through the vents using a mental blueprint of the compound. Knowing where the al Ghuls kept their base of operations wasn't enough for his plan; he had to hack several encrypted databases to find the blueprints he needed to memorize. Then he had to enlist his brother's help in hacking a handful of satellites into showing him recent scans of the compound so he could discover for himself the changes Ra's al Ghul made that differed from the original blueprints.

And one of those changes was coming up.

He brought out a small jumpline from the utility belt under his shirt and attached one end to the shaft's ceiling. Then he let the rest of the jump line drop into the hole before him. This shaft was originally meant to keep going straight then upwards for the small chimneys at the north side of the compound. The chimneys were too small for even a small child to fit and would only be a dead end for Damian.

But the changes Ra's al Ghul had constructed made the shaft take a sudden drop down four levels - with new advances in technology, Ra's ordered the construction of more underground levels for various purposes. Further expansion aboveground would draw unnecessary attention while his digging deeper into the earth would remain mostly unseen. The lack of moving air below-grounds though, meant the need for more ventilation so the engineers fused the new shafts with the old ones higher up.

So Damian was speeding past dirt-darkened metal to bright silver aluminum that was similarly coated in dirt but at an amount less than the upper shaft - indicating that the shaft he was in was newer than the previous one. He stopped by the third side opening and crawled into it, retracting his jumpline almost as an afterthought. His mental blueprint said this new shaft ran throughout the subterranean level that held the specialized laboratories and complicated equipment that would draw suspicion if any of the civilian authorities ever reached this far. Ra's al Ghul had made sure to keep expendable laboratories aboveground (even if some of the experiments being worked on would never be found in a legal facility; the minor infraction helped distract civilians from the real activities far below) while he kept all hints of his true projects hidden underneath.

Or, almost all hints as Richard easily found them when Damian pointed him in the right direction. Even then, all that Richard knew about these hidden levels were based on assumptions. Damian had asked for privacy when Richard broke into the League of Assassins' network and his brother left him alone.

_"Are you certain this cannot be traced?"_ _Damian asked Richard while watching the older boy hack through another firewall._

_"I'm bouncing my signal off a dozen different satellites and scrambling the encryptions fifteen times." Richard answered without looking at him. "It's like leaving several false trails while sweeping my real trail behind me. So yes, we can still probably be traced but I can make it a lot more difficult for the tracker to find me."_

_Damian nodded. While he barely understood the mechanics of hacking (neither Father nor Richard had fully trained him in hacking yet), his brother had given him a metaphor to help him understand better. Only two of the Masters who'd taught him had done that, and it was those two that treated him more as a gifted child than an assassin-in-training. The others had always taught things to him and always expected him to follow their logic and come to the same conclusion. He was always expected to repeat their logic back to them even if he hadn't understood the lesson until much later._

_And yet Richard clearly didn't expect him to do the same. Richard told him stories, explained things using concrete mental images instead of abstracts, and frequently asked him of his opinions. It was a strange epiphany for Damian, this teaching method his brother employed. Richard had treated him with care and a kind of respect borne out of...love. Damian's previous Masters did hold some respect for the al Ghul heir, the budding assassin held in the body of a boy. But theirs was a respect that Damian realized he did not care for. Instead, he found himself reciprocating the respect that Richard had shown him - as one brother to another._

_"And...we're through!" Richard crowed in triumph. The screen they were watching started scrolling several lines of code that were familiar to Damian and he firmly pulled his brother away from the computer._

_"Hey-!"_

_"I request your further assistance in this, Richard," Damian told him quietly, moving so his body covered the screen from his brother's eyes._

_Richard raised an eyebrow. "You already asked me for a favor to help you hack into this...whatever this is."_

_"And I would request that you shelve your curiosity and leave this to me. It is..." 'dangerous, complicated, something you would be killed for just for knowing' was what Damian wanted to say. But he couldn't; it would give his brother a hint at what he was attempting and Damian couldn't afford to risk his brother knowing. So he said, "...private. And personal."_

_Richard's gaze studied him for a moment before nodding. "Alright, Damie. I'll...go and play some video games. Or hack the Pentagon again. But if you need me, call, okay?"_

_"Yes, Richard," Damian nodded and watched his brother leave the Cave. When Richard reached the steps leading to the Manor, he called out, "Richard!"_

_When Richard turned to look at him, he continued, "Thank you. For your assistance."_

_He was answered by a bright grin. "Anytime, Damie!"_

There was muffled clanging somewhere above and behind him. The ninjas must have found some way of tracking him through the vents even though none of them could fit in; perhaps they'd enlisted the children-in-training to help in the search. No matter, Damian could hear them long before they could hear him.

The shaft he was in branched left and right on regular intervals. Damian took the second turn going right and went down a half-step before stopping by a chute going far up into darkness and far down where a reddish light glowed. From his mental blueprint, Damian surmised that he had reached the back of the compound and this would be the chute for garbage to be incinerated. Good.

He brought out his jump line again and aimed upwards. The next few steps in this plan were risky but it would gain him a few minutes' lead time to escape without being spotted. He felt his heart beat a little faster. This was just the sort of risk his brother loved doing. _And he would be doing these risks again soon,_ he promised himself and shot the jump line.

He could hear the faint _chink_ of the grapple end attaching to the top of the chute and he switched the grapple gun to quickly retract, hoisting him upwards. The dark gray walls sped past him as he counted the levels. He wasn't even halfway to his desired level when he heard metallic clanging high above.

Someone had opened the chute from above.

Damian scrambled for one of his tinier explosives. Any second now, someone above would be tossing a pile of garbage down the chute and hit him. Depending on what the garbage was, he could be hit by a pile of documents and still keep his hold, or he could be swamped with useless - but still deadly - chemicals and he could fall with them into the incinerator.

And Richard would never receive the antidote.

Damian halted his progress on the jump line. Despite the loud clanging of metal above, he thought he could hear glass clinking. He gave an inward growl as he realized they would be throwing chemicals today and he couldn't afford to let any of the substances touch him. He couldn't even destroy the chemicals with an explosive or the resultant cinders would fall on him and possibly burn him still.

He had only one option then.

He set the explosive to one second and tossed it to one side. Then he scrunched himself into a tight ball. His eyes were shut. He couldn't see the resulting explosion but he could hear it loudly - too loudly. In the confines of the chute, the sound had magnified to an extent where it overwhelmed his sensitive ears. The shockwave from the explosion rocked him in his hanging position but he took control of that quickly.

Ears ringing, he glanced down at the opening he made in the chute. He couldn't hear past the ringing in his ears, but he knew the garbage throwers would hear the explosion and investigate. Damian needed to not be visible when they did. So he let go of his jump line.

He stretched out his hands and caught the lip of the opening with his fingers. The jagged edges cut into his hands but he ignored the pain and brought out another explosive. With one arm, he pulled himself up just high enough to see the final wall keeping him from outside and threw the explosive at it. Then he let himself hang by his fingertips as the second explosive blew.

It only took two seconds. The garbage throwers above would have called for the ninjas by now and they would be looking through the chute after first checking it wasn't trapped, but Damian would be gone.

He pulled himself up again and rolled into the new opening in the compound's wall. Damian squinted at the sudden sunlight after the darkness of the ventilation shafts but at this time of day, the light wasn't bright enough to be blinding. He shifted until he was perched at the edge of the hole and took out a second grapple.

By the time he'd shot his line over the compound's protective wall, his hearing had cleared enough so he could hear the shouts coming from both sides of the compound.

_Too late for them. _He rose into a crouch and swung himself over the final barrier to his escape.


	14. Chapter 14

Notes: One chapter to go!

Kew: I'm from the Philippines hehehe. You will have to see what happens in this chapter and the next ;) And Richard is such a genius he hacks government websites for fun just because he could...and Bruce would argue that it would show the government their security isn't good enough :P No, I don't have a facebook account. It keeps slowing down my laptop so I can't get into the site.

* * *

It was a short run back to the Batjet. Or, it was shorter than one would expect for a hidden aircraft with an enemy stronghold nearby. But Damian had counted on his visit not taking too long for the guard patrol to discover his jet. Not to mention, he'd weighed the chances of him leaving peacefully against him leaving at a dead run (the latter scored a seventy to eighty percent chance of happening considering the pains Talia took to make Damian return) and decided that his escape would be drawing attention away from the outside perimeter.

The outdoor patrols should be returning to the base now to create a tight net around the compound - they didn't know he was already past that net.

Still, the jet was close enough for its engines to be heard by the guards so he would have to be quick about starting the jet and getting airborne.

The sleek, black outline of the jet was a welcome sight after his run through the dense jungle. His remote control commanded the cockpit to open and he leaped in, quickly setting the controls for hover. The jet rose in the air. The wheels retracted. Damian moved to turn the jet in the direction he wanted when the first ninja broke through the tree cover and aimed a rifle at the jet.

He set his jaw and engaged the boosters instead. He'll adjust his heading when he's safely in the air.

Inertia shoved him into his seat as the jet shot forward. The tree canopy fell away. Damian thought he heard the dull clanking of bullets hitting the jet but none of them penetrated into the machinery beneath so he paid them no heed. He was in the air and he would soon be clear of the League of Assassin's reach.

A far-off glint drew his attention to the rear-view screen, but it was only the light of the setting sun reflecting off the compound's windows.

He felt a stabbing pain in his chest at the sight of the remote facility receding away, but he ignored that feeling in favor of clutching his stolen vial tighter. The jet purred under his hands as it steadily accelerated - back to Father, back to his dying brother whose only chance of survival lay in his hands, back..._home_.

He half-expected the League of Assassins to send their fighter jets after him but after several minutes of silence, he decided that Talia thought it would be a waste of effort to follow him. The ninjas at the compound were only instructed to try to detain him; a dogfight in the air might kill him. Talia has no need to kill him yet and Damian has every need to return to the Manor.

_Richard, _he promised to himself, _if I find your corpse before I return, I will personally hunt down your ghost and shove it back into your body._

But whatever he expected to find upon his return to the BatCave, it wasn't what greeted him an hour later.

"I do not have to answer to you, West," he snarled at the speedster's face. Damian had jumped off the Batjet to find his way blocked by Richard's weakling team staring at him with accusing eyes. He would have forced his way past them when the junior Flash stepped right in his face and demanded to know where he'd been.

His explanation would be too complicated for the telling and would take minutes - minutes his brother might not have. Not to mention he was tired and he was trying to keep his emotions under control - he wouldn't care to let these junior metahumans see the hurt his mother had inflicted. Damian rolled his shoulders back and put as much presence as he could in his glare. He was a Wayne and an al Ghul. His bloodline held as much authority as the world could give one House. "Get out of my way. I need to see Richard."

"I'm not letting you near Dick." West snarled back. "You'll never hurt him again."

This was a waste of time and the speedster should know it! Damian clenched his fists and spoke through gritted teeth, "Move, West, or you will regret it."

"No!"

"I warned you..." The fist he drew back would have hit the junior Flash in the nose - possibly break it and let out enough blood to distract the rest of Richard's team while he ran for his brother - but a large hand caught his fist in mid-strike.

"I'm not letting you pass, either," the clone towered over him, his gaze piercing as he firmly held Damian's fist.

Damian narrowed his eyes at the clone. West must have convinced the rest of Richard's team that he was only here to hurt his brother. It was an unfounded accusation that he had deemed minor - an oversight that Richard was now paying for with every delayed minute. He convinced himself that the renewed pain in his chest came from him not dealing with his mother's abandonment and not from their accusations as he wrenched his fist away from the clone's hand and demanded, "Did West convince you of my so-called 'evil intentions'? Did our deal not have any impact on you on what I planned for Richard?"

The clone calmly folded his arms over his chest. "Our deal was for me to look after Dick. I'm doing that."

"Nice one, Conner," the archer stepped close to stand beside the speedster. "What is it that Gandalf said? 'You shall not pass!'"

Damian aimed his glare at the archer. He wasn't familiar with the quote she referenced and he promised himself to ask Richard about it later. For now, perhaps if he indicated his familial obligations they would step aside for him. "You refuse to let me see my brother?"

"Yes," it was the Atlantean who spoke. His arms were similarly crossed over his chest as he watched him warily. "On the grounds that you explain your actions."

"I do not have to explain anything to you!" Damian exploded.

"No, but you owe _me _an explanation." The deep voice broke through the group of teenagers and they stepped back to allow Batman to face him. "Start talking."

Damian dropped his fists and relaxed his stance. Unlike Richard's team, Batman was a challenge he didn't want to face. Father held similarly high expectations as Talia did and demanded always a good reason for impulsive actions. But also unlike Richard's team, Father was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt...or so Damian hoped.

He carefully schooled his face into a calm expression and reported, "I have the antidote for Richard's poisoning."

Father made no move to indicate surprise or glee. He simply asked, "From where?"

"Mo- Talia al Ghul." Damian caught himself from referring to her as his mother. While half of his DNA came from her, his respect for her had vanished with her discarding his brother as circus trash. Richard was more worthy of his loyalty and respect than she did and Damian owed Richard for his acceptance. "I made a bargain for my brother's life."

Father continued to watch him for a second or two. Damian glanced past him and into the MedBay, hoping he could see some part of his brother but the curtains effectively hid him from sight. Disappointed but not willing to show it, Damian turned his attention back to his Father. "Richard will need the entire contents of the vial soon." He fished out the vial he'd taken. "The toxin will continue to ravage his organs until it is stopped."

Batman kept his expression calm as he took the vial and nodded. "I'll administer it directly." He gave Damian a meaningful look that plainly said, _We need to talk_, before he turned and walked back to the MedBay.

Richard's team stared after Batman for a moment before rounding on him, but he wasn't in the mood to pander to their demands. He'd turned back to the Batjet to assess the damage the ninjas had wrought.

"So," West broke the heavy silence left in the wake of Batman's leaving. "How sure are you this is the right antidote?"

He shrugged without facing them. "Talia assured me it is." He counted at least two holes in the jet's armor plating and many more dents. Some of the ninjas had used armor-piercing bullets - but thankfully Father had installed a secondary inner armor after the first layer. Without that second layer, Damian might have found himself bleeding on the flight home.

" 'Talia,'" the Martian spoke up, "you called her Talia. Not...Mother."

He still refused to face them, refused to let them see how much it had hurt to have his mother reject him. But he'd made his choice and he will abide by it. "We disagreed on her plans for Richard. She and I are no longer...amiable with each other."

His answer must have satisfied them for one by one, Richard's team left him until only one was left. He wasn't certain who it was until a webbed hand grasped his shoulder.

" 'Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference.'" The Atlantean quoted, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "I apologize for my earlier suspicions, Damian. And I am sorry you were faced with this choice. If you wish to speak, I will listen."

Damian exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "Update me of my brother's status." And then, because the Atlantean had offered his apologies first, "Please."

"I will."


	15. Chapter 15

Notes: This last chappie is a little different from the others in that there's a bit of an epilogue of sorts at the end.

Starshinesoldier: Damian doesn't spend as much time socializing with the others so they don't have a lot of 'evidence' proving his trustworthiness. All they got to go on is how Bats treats him and the Wally's impressions vs Dick's impressions arguments. But they'll change their tune soon enough ;)

Kew: I thought you might not be familiar with the references I added in the previous chapter - 1) Gandalf is a wizard in the Lord of the Rings. His scene in keeping the demon from reaching his friends and commanding 'You shall not pass!' is very popular. 2) The quote that Kaldur spoke is the first stanza of Robert Frost's poem 'The Road not Taken'. It was about reaching a point in life where you have to make a decision if you don't want to remain stagnant, and both options seem as likely as the other in that there is no Right Way, there is just one way and the other. And so Damian took one option: to save Richard and risk his relationship with his mother.

Dextra2 and my other Anonymous Guest: Thanks! Hope you like this final chapter too :)

* * *

Hours after Damian assessed and repaired what damage of the Batjet he could, hours after Pennyworth called them all for dinner; Father finally came up to announce that Richard was on the mend.

Damian kept his eyes on the bowl of pumpkin soup in front of him - he barely had any appetite after the entire confrontation with Richard's team and the waiting for updates on his brother - while the others gave sighs of relief and joyful shouts. He was successful in saving his brother's life, but the spoonful of soup in his mouth tasted like ashes.

Father's commanding, "Damian," was expected though.

Damian pushed back his chair and left the dining room to meet with his Father.

He was led into the study that held the hidden entrance to the BatCave. Father walked around to sit behind his desk as he gestured for Damian to take one of the seats in front of him. He didn't wait for Damian to get comfortable before he started.

"Report."

Damian straightened his back and calmly told him everything that happened, starting from when he discovered that Richard was poisoned. He kept his report concise and emotionless, never betraying the stabbing pain in his chest when he spoke of his confrontation with Talia. When he finished, Father heaved a deep sigh and pushed his chair back.

Damian followed his Father with his eyes as the man stepped around his desk to stand in front of him. He kept himself still and emotionless as Father crouched down and reached out to hold Damian's shoulders.

"Damian," he said, "thank you."

Damian looked into steel blue eyes that mirrored his own and saw the pain and weariness in them. He slid his legs to the ground and curled into the man's chest. And shook. And the hard wall that he had been hiding his emotions behind crumbled as his knees weakened and the only strength holding him up was his Father's.

Father's large hand was gentle as it ran through his short hair. The man's deep voice was similarly soft as he murmured soothing words - words that never seemed to sink into Damian's mind as he shook and shook.

Damian al Ghul had never cried in his life. But Damian Wayne came close to tears that one vulnerable moment in his Father's arms.

When his fit subsided, Damian pulled away, feeling the tension from when Richard first fell sick melt away.

"Damian," He glanced up when his Father called him. "Would you like to see Dick?"

For the first time in what felt like days, Damian could feel his mouth smile.

But the smile quickly faded the moment Damian saw his brother's condition.

Richard was pale. Too pale for his normal complexion. Too skinny to be healthy. The poison had wreaked havoc on Richard's body before it was stopped and it left him looking much like the corpses Damian's teachers offered to Ra's al Ghul.

"He'll be alright, Damian," Father had reassured him, pushing him to take the seat by Richard's bedside before leaving. "I promise. A good round of antibiotics, good food, and good company will get Dick back to normal in a couple of weeks."

But his Father's words were mere words. Richard was too still. Where was his idiotic grin? Where were the annoying hair ruffles?

Damian's chest felt tight. He had done this. His mother had done this to Richard to pave the way for him: Damian al Ghul-Wayne. This was because of him.

Then Richard's hand twitched.

The tight band around Damian's chest released when his brother opened his blue eyes and focused on him. "...Damie?" Richard's voice was weak, breathy, but Damian was glad to hear it after a week of silence.

"Richard," Damian gave a tight-lipped smile and pressed closer to the cot, never revealing how scared he had been a few moments ago. "How do you feel?"

"Sore. Achy." There came a rumbling sound in the vicinity of Richard's stomach. "And hungry enough to steal Wally's stash of Devil Bars."

"T-t." Damian dismissed the sweet treat made of chocolate fudge covered chocolate sponge cake with chocolate filling. He had never appreciated his brother's cravings for 'junk food.' "Empty calories. I will have Pennyworth prepare a nutritious and more filling meal for you."

Richard's laugh was breathy and quickly cut off with a groan. "Better hurry with that before my stomach eats its way through my spine."

Damian jumped up and rushed for the door. He had almost lost his brother because of his mother; he could never make it up to Richard.

He was halfway past the door - and the rest of the team standing sentinel - when he heard Richard's weak call for him. Damian turned around and was rewarded by his brother's grin.

"Thanks, Damie."

"You're my brother," was all Damian could say before he fled for the kitchen, his head ducked the entire way to keep others from seeing the answering smile on his face.

* * *

_Excerpt from Damian Wayne's essay for Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time:_

_ Love, sad to say, does not and cannot conquer all. But it is a most potent weapon against those who seek to suppress one's free will, and a most powerful motivator for its warriors. When one loves truly, one can find the strength to overcome insurmountable odds._

* * *

The entire compound was silent except for the muted sound of a construction in progress. Ra's glanced over at the reflection of his daughter who had just entered the library with a carefully blank expression. Even without her speaking a word, he knew what his daughter came to him about.

"The Detective's blood has won out." He stated, returning his attention towards his vast garden of endangered and extinct flora. The riot of colors in a garden was carefully cultivated and organized into the most pleasing arrangement possible. "A pity."

"We can attempt another, Father," Talia said softly but Ra's held up a hand to forestall her.

"No. It is obvious the circus brat acts as their moral compass. I would rather not hand over another ally to join in the Detective's crusade. If we are to win," he smiled at the sight of a team of gardeners carefully positioning a white Iris of Nazareth so it was visible through the library windows, "then the circus orphan must be eliminated or...corrupted."

_Up next: Alternates_


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